


And Then They Were Roommates...

by sleepy_cat_25



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, And then they were roommates..., CaptainSquad!, I don’t even know, M/M, Minor Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Minor Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Minor Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Minor Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Minor Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Platonic Relationships, Pure Nonsense, making it up as I go, ┐(￣ヘ￣)┌
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:48:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26429626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepy_cat_25/pseuds/sleepy_cat_25
Summary: Daichi had thought college would be simple, or at least easier than high school. He wasn’t pursuing volleyball, and it’d never occurred to him that he could end up meeting old rivals outside of the sport.That was, until he found out his roommates were all former rivals, and the captains of their own high school teams.It was /supposed/ to be simple.Or, Ushijima keeps bringing home plants, Oikawa’s spa days and Bokuto’s movies are a weekly thing now, Kuroo keeps leaving his experiments out and Daichi just wishes they’d stop messing with the thermostat.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou & Oikawa Tooru & Sawamura Daichi & Ushijima Wakatoshi, Kuroo Tetsurou & Sawamura Daichi, Oikawa Tooru & Sawamura Daichi, Oikawa Tooru & Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 39
Kudos: 91





	1. Big Cities and - Ooh, Nice Plant!

“We have arrived at Tokyo Station,” a sweet female voice spoke overhead, followed closely by a ping as the doors slid open. Daichi didn’t bother to listen to rest of what she said, too focused on getting out of the crowded platform and maybe getting a breath of fresh air.

Everyone knew the Tokyo Metro system was busy, but Daichi had never thought how many people counted as _busy_. This platform alone seemed more crowded than some of the festivals in Miyagi, and he’d often thought those were hard to navigate. Not to mention his suitcase wasn’t exactly making things any easier.

It took ten minutes to work his way through the crowd and finally end up outside on the streets of Tokyo, and his first thought was that _there were way too many people._

This wasn’t his first time here, he’d been for training camp and then for Nationals, but he’d never really seen the city either of those times. Tall buildings stretched far into the distance, covered in glass and digital billboards displaying ads as people rushed around, bags in hand and phones pressed to ears.

It was a far cry from the quiet of his hometown, but he found he didn’t mind nearly as much now that he could he see the sky above him.

Daichi moved to the edge of the sidewalk before pulling out his phone to check the address of the apartment. It – supposedly – would only take ten minutes by foot, so naturally he started walking, suitcase in tow.

Tokyo was a big city, but how hard could it be to navigate?

\---

“Tokyo is impossible to navigate…” Daichi muttered under his breath, glaring at a street sign he’d passed _three times_ now. It hadn’t been five minutes since he left the train station, but he was already lost, and the map on his phone had frozen. “Should have just stayed at home…”

He came to a pause at an intersection and noted the sky had darkened and the crowd had increased in size. _Great,_ he thought, cursing the map. _Its almost night and I still can’t find the damn apartment._

“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted his thoughts, and he turned to see a girl around his age with black hair and an amused smile. “Hi, sorry for bothering you, but I work over there -” she gestured somewhere behind her “– and I’ve seen you pass by like, three times now.”

“Oh?” Daichi grinned. He might be oblivious, but he _could_ tell when someone flirted with him. Or at least he hoped he could. “Do you watch everyone in the crowd?”

She grinned back at him and he thought she kinda resembled a puppy, warm and comforting in an oddly alluring way. “No, just the good-looking ones.”

“Nice to know I fit a city girl’s criteria.”

“Not from around here then?”

“Nope, just arrived.”

“Lost already?” she smirked up at him and a sudden image of Kuroo flashed across Daichi’s mind.

He sighed, “Unfortunately.”

“Need help?”

“Yes please.” He showed her the address, and not three minutes later he was – finally – headed in the right direction, with a relieved smile and a phone number in his pocket.

Along the way, he nearly walked down the wrong street twice but caught himself before he got lost again. Not that he’d tell anybody.

By the time he reached the apartment building, it was nearly seven o’clock and had been about four hours since he got on the train in Miyagi. Just thinking about it made him kinda want to pass out.

No, he definitely wanted to pass out. Just preferably on a bed and not in the middle of the street.

The address said fourth floor, so Daichi dragged his bags up the stairs – grumbling the entire time about the lack of an elevator. Or well, a working one at least. The steel door had a yellow sign stuck over it, ‘Not working!’ neatly written in hiragana.

And they said Tokyo was advanced.

As he hiked up the stairs, his mind wandered off into thinking what his roommates would be like. It’d be nice if they liked sports, even better if they like volleyball or if they’d at least agreed to play with him sometimes. If not, then Daichi just hoped they weren’t total assholes. Well, surely not _all four_ of them could be assholes. Hopefully, they’d be nice.

All four probably were from Tokyo though, and Daichi found himself wishing he’d picked a college closer to home, if only for the for the higher chances of knowing someone.

“Now I sound like Asahi,” Daichi grumbled, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He stepped onto the landing of the fourth floor, glancing at the apartment number on his phone.

403.

He turned, walking to the apartment in the left corner and only paused for half a second to read the little owl sticker above the door handle that said, ‘please hoot before opening the door!’ Apparently, the others – at least one person anyway – had arrived.

“Should I knock…?” he glanced at the sticker again and rolled his eyes. “Or hoot? …yeah, no.” Rummaging through his backpack, he pulled out his school issued keys and settled on opening the door himself. Just as he slipped the key into the lock, the handle turned, and the door flung open, sending him stumbling inside.

“Woah, sorry!” a voice said as Daichi righted himself. “I was going out to – Hey, hey, hey! Daichi!”

“Huh?” he looked up to see bright golden eyes and spiky grey hair. “Bokuto?” he asked, because honestly, _what were the chances_ that he’d get a roommate he actually knew?

“What?” another voice from inside called out. “Daichi?”

A voice he knew far too well.

He heard the sounds of footsteps against the floor and a second later a man with horrible bedhead and infuriating smirk appeared. “Ah~ the country bumpkin crow finally moves to the city.”

“Kuroo,” Daichi said slowly. Was he at the wrong place? This was the building in the address – he’d checked _twice_ – and the number outside did read 403.

“Come in!” Bokuto grinned, holding the door open for him and Daichi entered the apartment, pulling his bags along. “You know, when Kuroo got here, I thought I was lucky to have _one_ roommate I knew already.” There was a bend in the hallway, and the spiker walked down it before popping his head back into the genkan. “But now, I know two of my roommates!!! Even better!!”

He vanished around the bend again and Daichi turned his gaze to Kuroo, who was smirking at him. “What?”

“Nothing~” he sang, flicking his black bangs – is that what they were? – only for them to fall exactly back to where they were before.

“Okay then,” Daichi replied quickly, slipping his shoes off and pulling off his backpack. “Since it’s nothing –”

“You got lost, didn’t you?” Kuroo crowed, and Daichi rolled his eyes. Really?

“What makes you think that?” He started walking into the apartment, knowing full well Kuroo was following after him.

“You’re just a young country kid, in the big city, all alone,” The man shrugged before wrapping an arm around Daichi and patting his shoulder in a way that _would_ have been comforting, if it was literally anyone besides Kuroo. “Of course, you’ll get lost, but don’t worry. It’s alright, we all get lost chasing our dreams.” He raised a fist dramatically, looking one hundred percent serious and Daichi wondered how he’d been chosen as captain last year.

“Shut up,” He rolled his eyes, elbowing Kuroo who dropped to the floor – _dramatically_. “We’re the same age.”

“Ah, Daichi,” Kuroo coughed, still laying on the floor and looking like he was dying. “You wound me. My heart and soul –” another – you guessed it – _dramatic_ cough “– are shattered.”

“Are you majoring in theatre?” Daichi asked, completely unbothered by his antics. It vaguely reminded him of Tanaka pretending to be sick so Kiyoko would have to take him to the infirmary. “Because you’re a very good actor.”

He began to get up. “Aw, thanks Daichi –”

“Like a toddler.” He finished and Kuroo flopped back onto the floor, once again dying.

“Hey Daichi,” Bokuto walked out of the kitchen, which opened into the hallway. “Do you know – wah!” he yelled out as he tripped and fell over Kuroo – who, to his credit, barely flinched – and Daichi winced.

Before he could ask if he was okay, Bokuto rolled off Kuroo but didn’t stand up. “Bro, guess what?”

“What bro?” Kuroo asked, cracking one eye open.

“I think I just _fell_ for you, bro.”

“Bro.” He placed a hand over his heart, both eyes open now. They continued on like that for a while, laying in the middle of the hallway and successfully blocking it.

 _At least they’re okay_ , Daichi thought. _Well, as ‘okay’ as they can be…_

He turned his gaze upwards, to the small section of the living room he could see from where he stood. Sliding glass doors opened to a balcony, a comfy looking couch pressed against the far wall – he assumed it was a couch, couldn’t really see it – and an armchair next to it. On the opposite wall was a decently size TV and – a plant.

Daichi blinked. A plant. Did all college apartments come with plants? Was that a Tokyo thing? Did _everyone_ get plants? Why? For decoration?

“Hello~” a voice called out and Daichi turned to see the door swing open. “Ah, you must be – wait, Dai-chan?”

“Dai-chan?” Kuroo and Bokuto shot up, staring at him in shock as Daichi let out a surprised, “Oikawa?”

“I didn’t know you were going to a school in Tokyo.” The setter said, cocking his head and letting chocolate brown strands of hair fall into his eyes. “What a surprise.”

“I didn’t –” Daichi started before Kuroo grabbed him by the shoulders and began to shake him.

“What about Suga-chan, Daichi?” he wailed – literally _wailed_ – “What about Suga-chan?”

“Can. You. Stop?!” Daichi pulled Kuroo’s hands off him, before looking around him to Bokuto, who’d started sobbing on the ground. “Why are you crying, Bokuto?”

“Poor Suga,” the spiker shook his head. “He didn’t deserve to have his heart broken.”

Daichi rubbed his forehead, “Bokuto, nobody is heartbroken. Please stop crying.”

“Eh? Wasn’t he heartbroken when you started dating, uh, this guy?”

“Dating?!” Daichi and Oikawa exclaimed simultaneously. “No, we are _not_ dating and why would Suga be – never mind…” Daichi shook his head, deciding not to question this any further.

“But he calls you _Dai-chan_.” Bokuto said, heavy emphasis on the nickname.

“Oikawa’s just like that.”

“Oikawa…” Kuroo tilted his head to the side, staring at the setter with narrow eyes in a way that strongly struck Daichi as catlike. “I’ve heard that name… Aoba Johsai, I think?”

“Yep,” Oikawa straightened, practically glowing with pride at the mention of his high school team.

“Oh!” Bokuto leaped up, standing next to Oikawa, who was still only half-way into the apartment. “You’re on the University team, right?!”

“Yeah,” Oikawa replied, clearly surprised at the leap Bokuto had made.

“So am I!” he cheered, before grabbing Oikawa’s arm and pulling him inside. “I can’t wait to play with you!”

“Me too,” the setter grinned, letting Bokuto drag him past the genkan and into the apartment. “I thought – ooh, nice plant.”

Daichi went to shut the door, trying to move Oikawa’s suitcase inside and almost tripped from the sheer weight of it. “What does he have in here?” he muttered as Kuroo stepped forward.

“Lemme try.” He stepped back as the messy haired captain grabbed the handle and tugged, to no avail. “What the fuck…?” he grumbled, yanking harder and falling back when the suitcase didn’t so much as budge.

They stared at the offending suitcase, covered in stickers of stars and planets, and more than one UFO.

“Okay, you grab one side,” Kuroo said, snapping Daichi from his contemplation of why Oikawa would have the definition of ‘cryostasis’ stuck on his suitcase – for aesthetic? “And I’ll grab the other.”

“Uh, yeah.” He nodded and they moved to grab opposite sides, before heaving it up and inside before nearly collapsing. “What… does he have… in there…?” Daichi huffed, and Kuroo shook his head in response.

Oikawa poked his head back into the hallway, “What’re you guys – huh? What happened?” he glanced between them.

“What the fuck did you pack?” Kuroo groaned, “We could barely lift the damn thing.”

“Pfft. That’s a fail safe.” Oikawa grinned, eyes lighting up with amusement as he stooped down and did something with the wheels at the bottom. “See?” he grabbed the handle and this time, the suitcase moved without a hint of resistance.

_Oh, what the hell…_

Daichi looked at Kuroo. Kuroo looked at Daichi. They sighed simultaneously, muttering about their own idiocy.

Oikawa giggled, opening his mouth to say something but Bokuto called him then, and he left without a word.

“Why didn’t you check the wheels?” Kuroo huffed.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I thought _you_ did.”

“Kuroo,” Daichi deadpanned. “You were literally standing behind me. There’s no way you wouldn’t have known if I did or didn’t.”

He opened his mouth to retort, then paused as he realized something. “That still doesn’t explain why his suitcase was so damn heavy though.”

They were silent for a moment before shrugging and leaving the topic altogether. As long as Daichi never had to pick up that suitcase again, he didn’t particularly care what was in it. Unless it was filled with weighted volleyballs, because then he’d be concerned as to _why_ Oikawa deemed it necessary to lug that around. And how had he managed to get it up the stairs?! Okay, maybe he was a _bit_ curious, not that he’d ask, that’d be rude –

“Oi,” Kuroo called out, walking down the hallway and after a second, Daichi followed. “What’re you keeping in that bag, man? It weighs like, more than a hundred pounds!”

And Kuroo was asking. Okay fine, whatever.

Oikawa and Bokuto were seated on the couch, hunched over the phone in Oikawa’s hands. There were actually two armchairs, on either side of the couch, and a hallway that probably led to the rooms. Three doors were on the other side of the room, and Daichi figured at least one of them had to be a closet.

“Eh, it’s just clothes…” he shrugged, focusing his attention on the screen. “And some hair products… and some skin products…” Oikawa looked up, scrunching his face up in thought. “I think there’s an iron in there somewhere too.”

“An iron?” Daichi repeated. “Why do you have an iron in your suitcase, Oikawa?”

Another shrug. “You never know.”

“For what?” Kuroo exclaimed. “Did you plan on ironing something on the train here?!”

He sang, “You never know…” and turned his attention back to the screen from which Bokuto hadn’t even bothered to look up from.

“Do you just randomly pull out irons in Miyagi?” Kuroo muttered to Daichi, who snorted in response.

“Wah…” Bokuto said, leaning away from the phone as the video or whatever it was ended. “That was so _cool_ , I wanna try!”

“I know,” Oikawa hummed smugly, tapping away the screen. “Iwa-chan is amazing…”

“Do you think I could beat him?”

He scoffed. “No way. No one can beat Iwa-chan!”

Bokuto pouted at that. “I bet I could beat him.”

“No you couldn’t!”

“Could,” Bokuto crossed his arms, sulking against the back of the couch.

“Couldn’t.”

“ _Could._ ”

“ _Couldn’t!_ ”

_“Could!”_

_“Couldn’t!”_

They glared at each other and Daichi was reminded of Kageyama and Hinata’s bickering, though this may or may not be related to volleyball. But then again, those two fought over anything under the sun.

“I bet Bokuto _could_ beat your Iwa-chan!” Kuroo interjected.

“You don’t even know what we’re talking about!” Oikawa argued, turning his glare to the black-haired captain.

“I know Bokuto is awesome,” he retorted.

“Aw, thanks bro!” The owl loving spiker grinned, feud momentarily forgotten.

Before Kuroo could respond, Oikawa cut in. “Literally _no one_ can beat Iwa-chan at arm-wrestling!”

“Have you seen his arms?!” he grabbed Bokuto’ s arm and pushed the sleeve up, revealing his biceps.

Oikawa scowled. “Doesn’t matter, Iwa-chan is the best.”

“Before you continue,” Daichi interrupted, “from what I’ve heard Iwaizumi _has_ been undefeated for years now.”

“Who’d you hear _that_ from?” Kuroo asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion as Oikawa preened behind him. “This guy? Who obviously has a bias for _Iwa-chan_?”

“From Kageyama.”

“Kageyama knows them?” Bokuto asked, peering around Kuroo to look at Daichi.

“They went to the same middle school,” Daichi glanced at Oikawa, who looked a little subdued now, and maybe a little guilty, but he was probably being too hopeful. He didn’t bother to elaborate – Kageyama and Oikawa’s history wasn’t his to share and he had no intention to.

“There’s a first time for everything!” Kuroo insisted.

“Not for beating Iwa-chan!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Kuroo,” Daichi sighed. “You’re just mad Oikawa’s carrying around an iron. Calm down.”

“But it makes no sense!”

“How did you manage to lead Nekoma to nationals again?” Daichi asked, crossing his arms.

“Because I’m an extremely good captain.”

“Hold on,” Oikawa interrupted. “You’re a captain?”

Kuroo nodded and the brown haired setter let out a surprised ‘oh.’

“What’s that supposed to mean?” his eyes narrowed.

Oikawa shrugged. “Nothing. Guess I just got too used to good-looking captains…”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m gorgeous, Daichi’s hot, and Bokuto is like a model –” the spiker grinned at that, “– but you look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“And what if I did just roll out of bed?” Kuroo huffed, though Daichi suspected he got comments like this all the time.

“Then fix it!”

“Don’t worry bro,” Bokuto said, standing up to sling an arm around Kuroo’s shoulders. “I think your hair’s awesome.”

“Thanks bro.”

The doorbell rang then, followed by a loud hoot that made Bokuto cheer and then practically run to get the door. Daichi followed closely, silently praying that the last guy would at least be sensible – those three were more than enough for him.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto swung the door open and –

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

He was not expecting that.

\---

Daichi had seen the tension between Oikawa and Ushijima a handful of times - from a safe distance away - and each of those times he’d been quite sure one of them would kill the other. Well, Oikawa would kill Ushijima. The spiker had never really struck Daichi as violent.

Now, they were seated in the same room, with only two people and maybe three cushions to separate them. It didn’t help that Kuroo and Bokuto kept encouraging the already irritated setter, and he briefly wondered if this was some messed up therapy lesson.

Or maybe they just were just trying to rile him up.

Yeah, it was probably the second, Daichi had never seen Kuroo look so _invested_ in something before.

“– and the only thing he _ever_ has to say to me, is that I should have gone to Shiro – fucking – torizawa.”

Ushijima furrowed his eyebrows, “That is not the only thing –”

“Oh, of course,” Oikawa scoffed, turning to glare at him. “My talents were wasted at Aoba Johsai. How could I forget?!”

The silence that followed reminded Daichi of an episode of National Geographic he’d seen once; two predators sizing each other up before attacking, until Ushijima finally spoke. “Do you hate me, Oikawa?”

Oikawa is silent, a look of disbelief on his face. “Take a _fucking_ guess, Ushiwaka.”

“I was merely telling you the truth,” He tilted his head to the side, seemingly unbothered by Oikawa’s venomous tone. “Why would that make you hate me?”

“We’re rivals,” Oikawa stood up, glaring at Ushijima over the heads of Bokuto and Kuroo. “We’re supposed to hate each other.”

“But I don’t hate you.”

The confession left Oikawa speechless and he flopped down again, eyes still fixed on the wing spiker. “But – we’re _rivals_... we’re not –” his voice trailed off abruptly and Daichi took the opportunity to speak.

“You’re not rivals anymore,” he said, and Oikawa huffed in response.

“You’re playing on the same team now,” Bokuto added, leaning back to glance between the two.

“I don’t want to play with _him._ ”

“Why?” Daichi asked. The words remind him of Kageyama, last year when he and Hinata were joining the club. The yelling and fighting, and then later on, how incredible they became.

Oikawa sputtered. “We’ve always been rivals and that’s… that doesn’t change.”

Kuroo peered around Bokuto to look at the setter. “Your high school teams are rivals.”

The words hold a second meaning, one no one speaks out loud.

_You’re not part of that anymore. High school ended, and you’ve graduated. Move on._

“I –” his pulls his feet up and hugs his knees, sulking. “That’s not fair… you all can’t gang up on me…”

Daichi sighed. “Oikawa, no one’s ganging up on you.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo grinned. “That would require us caring.”

“Kuroo,” Daichi turned to him, as Oikawa started making faces at him.

“At least I have friends.”

“At least I have a likable personality.”

“My personality is very likable! And at least I have nice hair.”

“What do have against my hair?!”

“It’s a _mess_.”

And just like that, the delicate atmosphere in the room evaporated, replaced by bickering and Bokuto’ s reassurances that ‘ _no, I think your hair is great bro!_ ’.

Daichi leaned back in the armchair, watching the scene with an amused smile. Oikawa was leaning over Bokuto to smack Kuroo now, and the messy haired man had scooted away – until he was almost sitting on Ushijima – and continued to taunt him. Bokuto looked like he didn’t know which side he wanted to join and sat in the middle, randomly teaming up with either one. 

_At least he’s not yelling at Ushijima anymore,_ Daichi thought, standing up and drawing the attention of the others. “Can we sort out the rooms now?”

“Yes,” Oikawa leaped up. “I want the one farthest from Ushijwaka.”

“I want one next to Kuroo!” Bokuto sped down the hallway, followed by Kuroo.

That left the two rooms on the other side of apartment. Daichi looked at Ushijima. “Which one do you want?”

“Whichever one has a window.” Ushijima stood, opening both doors and shrugging when he saw both rooms had windows.

“Okay.” Daichi took the one on the right, pausing in the doorway to look at the bed. After a long train ride, nearly getting lost in the streets of Tokyo, and then meeting his roommates…

Yeah, Daichi _really_ wanted to pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i added more cuz Daichi's chapter didn't seem complete... 
> 
> also, i have not read the manga and i have no clue what happens at Nationals because i'm anime only, so the most they'll mention nationals is just 'i made to nationals, hooray.' cuz i want them all to win. (*≧▽≦)
> 
> this is probably the most /emotional/ this fic will ever get, like i just wanna write platonic idiocy.... even tho it isn't that emotional...
> 
> i don't know. this is my first fic altogether ┐(￣ヘ￣)┌
> 
> (つ >ω●)つ


	2. Conspiracies and Shattered Pots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Bokuto!!  
> 〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜

Oikawa liked clothes. He liked having many to choose from and he especially liked being able to look good in all of them. He’d never really given it much thought until recently, when he was packing and was forced to choose what to bring with him to college.

Now, he was thinking about it again.

Or trying to do something about it. His clothes were spread over every inch of his bed and some were piled onto his desk. The closet was already half-way full and there was _still_ _more_ in his suitcase.

“Why…” he muttered, glancing around his room. “Do these rooms have such small closets? What a pain.”

He tugged some clothes off their hangers and began to fold them. _I can probably fit more in here if I fold them… but that’s so…ugh._ He cursed under his breath, wondering if the others were having the same trouble. _I bet Kuroo and Bokuto don’t even care, and Daichi probably didn’t even bring this many clothes, he dresses like a dad anyway…I bet all of Ushijima’ s clothes are_ purple.

The thought made him scowl, and his eyes searched the messy heap on his bed until he found what he was looking for. He paused – the now aggressive – folding and reached over to grab his volleyball jacket. Wearing it felt warm and comforting, paired with memories of his old team and high school volleyball. Unfortunately, that included Shirotorizawa, and then he was scowling again, shrugging his jacket off and doing his best to keep his mind off his friends and his roommates.

“I’m gonna get frown lines…” he muttered to himself, returning to the task at hand – trying to shove his entire wardrobe into a ridiculously undersized closet.

After about twenty minutes of concentrated work, Oikawa managed to clear half his bed and a bit of his desk of clothes, all the while, he was _not_ thinking about Iwa-chan – now other side of Japan – or Mattsun or Makki – who were attending the same university in Miyagi.

“Wow, Tooru. You’re so cool, you _deserve_ to text Iwa-chan about this…” he rummaged through the pile of clothes – it was smaller now, he swore! – and finally dug out his phone. Oikawa spent another good minute staring at the messages he’d already sent today.

4:03 pm

>> on the way to Tokyo!!!

>> б（＞ε＜）∂

6:15 pm

>> i’m in Tokyo! §ԾᴗԾ§

>>iwa-chan!!!

>>dont u care about me??

6:23 pm

>>i almost DIED

>>jk

>>but i did nearly get run over

>>IWA-CHAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

>> (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻

6:46 pm

>>i’m at the apartment

>>omg (◯Δ◯∥)

6:58 pm

>>my rooommates r just……

>>REPLY!!!!

>>so _mean_

>> (ಠ ∩ಠ)

>>notice me iwa-chan~~

Oikawa grumbled, tossing his phone onto his bed and leaning back in his chair. He’d done plenty today, the rest could wait till tomorrow and he was _starving_.

“Great plan, Tooru.” He rubbed his face, standing up and moving to the door. “get something to eat and then –” he swung open the door, just as a crash came from the living room.

Skipping down the short hallway, Oikawa poked his head into the living room to see Bokuto and Kuroo sitting on the couch, posture perfectly straight and silent. Ushijima opened his door, and Oikawa _tried_ not to frown – he really did – but he couldn’t help it.

“What happened?” Ushiwka asked, and Oikawa turned his attention to the other two.

“Nothing, nothing at all.” Kuroo shook his head, and Bokuto pressed his lips together.

“Then what was that noise?”

“What noise?” Bokuto asked, looking perfectly innocent. “I didn’t hear anything, you bro?”

Kuroo shook his head and crossed his arms. “Bro, I didn’t hear anything at all.”

“Then why’re you sitting like that?” Oikawa asked, smirking when they swiveled to face him.

“Sitting like what?” Kuroo asked, glaring at him like they were siblings and Oikawa was threatening to snitch on him. Ha.

“Yeah, we _always_ sit like this.” Bokuto nodded vigorously but leaned back and relaxed his posture – or tried to anyway.

Before Oikawa could continue, Daichi’s door opened and he stepped out, rubbing sleep – _sleep?_ – from his eyes. “What did you break?”

“Wha – no!” Bokuto sputtered, sitting up straight again. “It wasn’t us.”

“It was them.” Oikawa grinned, leaning against the wall.

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at him, before facing Daichi. “It wasn’t us, Daichi! We’re responsible, mature young adults! Right, Ushijima?”

“No.” Ushijima replied, completely honest and stoic, and Oikawa stifled a laugh. “I’m pretty sure it was them.”

“Ushijima!” Bokuto whined as Daichi turned to look at them again. “You’re supposed to be on _our_ side!”

“There are no sides,” Daichi deadpanned, eyeing the two. “What did you break?”

“How do you know we broke something?” Kuroo stood up, towering over Daichi and glaring at him intimidatingly.

Daichi did not look intimidated. “Kuroo. I have ears. I heard the crash.”

“I thought you were sleeping? Hmm?” Kuroo leaned in, scrutinizing him. “What if it was part of a dream?”

“Then how did Ushijima hear it?”

“And me!” Oikawa added, which made Bokuto cry out, “Betrayal! Everywhere!”

“Maybe you’re all plotting something against me and Bokuto!”

“I wouldn’t plot against _Bokuto_.” Daichi said, his voice suddenly sharp and unnervingly _polite_.

Oikawa shivered.

“Oh?” Kuroo smirked – not the smirk he’d seen countless times just today, no. It reminded him of a cat, cornering a bird in a dark alley and preparing to kill.

Oikawa shivered again. Scary…

“That’s their rivalry voices…” someone whispered next to him and he jumped this time, straight up five floors and then all the way down to hell itself, before he realized it was just Bokuto.

“Don’t do that…” he gasped, pressing a hand over his chest.

“Do what?” Bokuto asked, tilting his head to the side, and letting a lock of grey and white hair fall into his face. A look of pure innocence to the untrained eye, but Oikawa had spent _years_ practicing the same charm and he wouldn’t be fooled so easily.

“Ha. Ha.” He rolled his eyes, turning back to Daichi and Kuroo who were now being separated by Ushijima – what a _peacemaker_. “What did you say that was?”

“Nekoma and Karasuno have been rivals for years,” Bokuto shrugged. “Apparently, they’re not over it.”

Oikawa scoffed, sulking. “And they told _me_ to get over _my_ rivalry.”

“They’re not threatening to change dorms or –” Bokuto made finger quotes, “– ‘find the aliens that live under the metro system and convince them to experiment on Ushijima or’ – what was it? – ‘burn the city to the ground?’”

“But they’re _real_ ,” Oikawa argued.

“But I’ve lived in Tokyo my entire life! Why haven’t I seen them?”

“They won’t show themselves to just anybody!” Oikawa clicked his tongue, wishing he’d unpacked his laptop – it was somewhere in his backpack, surrounded by books and too many random socks he’d thrown in because he was running late. There were a bunch of files in there with evidence of extraterrestrial life.

“Then how do you plan on finding them?” Bokuto exclaimed, “And don’t aliens live in outer space?!”

“But seriously, what did you break?” Daichi’s voice cut through their conversation, and they turn in time to see Kuroo groan and fall onto the couch, right by them.

“Tell them, bro.” He said, voice muffled by a pillow.

“What?!” Bokuto huffed, reaching over to smack Kuroo. “But _you’re_ the one who broke it!”

“But _you’re_ the one who pushed me!”

“But _you’re_ the one who provoked me!”

“But _you’re_ the one who provoked me first!”

“But _you’re_ the one who started it!”

“But _you’re_ the one who brought –”

“Get to the point,” Daichi interrupted.

“No, no.” Oikawa grinned, waving him off. “I want to see how far they can go.”

Daichi let out an exasperated sigh. “Why?”

“I, too, would like to see how long they can keep this up.” Ushijima added, raising his hand as if they were voting to see if the debate – could he call it that? – would continue or not. His mouth was twitched up in what one could assume was a smile, but Oikawa liked to pretend the wing spiker didn’t have emotions. It made him easier to hate.

“So would I!” Bokuto called from where he was leaning over the back of the couch and attempting to smack Kuroo in the face with a pillow.

“And me!” Kuroo said, before getting a face full of pillow, much to Bokuto’ s delight.

“Of course, _you two_ would,” Daichi rolled his eyes. “You don’t want to get in trouble for breaking whatever it was you broke.” They nodded vigorously, and Daichi got the same expression that Iwa-chan got whenever Oikawa talked to his fangirls before a game.

Pure adoration.

Or at least, that’s what Oikawa liked to imagine, mixed with a little bit – or a lot – of jealousy. It was probably much closer to something like irritation and minimum tolerance.

“At least tell me it wasn’t something valuable.” Daichi said.

“Well,” Kuroo shrugged. “How valuable is a life to you, Daichi?”

“Eh?” Oikawa exclaimed, leaning forward. “Did you kill someone?!”

“That depends on what you count as ‘someone’…”

Silence. Kuroo took a second to glance around the room, and after seeing that everyone’s eyes were fixed on him – even Bokuto’ s, who looked like he had absolutely no idea what Kuroo could have broken. “It was a plant, okay? I broke a plant pot.” He collapsed back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest.

Daichi sighed in what Oikawa _assumed_ was relief.

“What was all the drama for then?” Oikawa grumbled, rolling his eyes before pausing on Ushijima.

“You broke a plant?” Ushijima exclaimed, and Oikawa realized it was the first time he heard so much _emotion_ in the wing spiker’s voice. For a plant. “What did you do with it?”

“Um, I – uh, shoved it out there.” Kuroo points to the balcony door, clearly shocked at the outburst. Well, as much of an outburst one could get from the usually stoic man.

Ushijima wasted no time in throwing open the sliding doors, and crouching next to the shattered remains of the now probably dead plant and ceramic.

Oikawa followed after him, but remained behind Bokuto. He didn’t want to seem _too_ interested in his rival. Former rival. Whatever.

“Uh, Ushijima. You okay bro?” Bokuto asked tentatively, leaning just past the balcony door with Oikawa peering over his shoulder. He was _not_ curious at all, thank you very much.

“You killed it,” Ushijima murmured, looking _heartbroken_ over a _plant_ of all things.

Daichi joined them by the door, Kuroo trailing behind him and looking guiltier by the second. “I didn’t mean to…”

Ushijima turned to look up at them, face dead serious. Oikawa had never seen that intensity off the court, but then again, Oikawa didn’t know Ushijima out of volleyball. And he didn’t want to either.

“Is there a store that sells plant pots nearby?” He asked, to no one in particular.

“Uh, yeah, I think so…” Bokuto replied, as Ushijima stood up. “There’s flower shop a block away, so probably there…”

Ushijima nodded and left the balcony, ducking in his room to grab something before walking out the door.

“Wait, Ushijima –” Daichi started, but the door shut, effectively cutting him off. They were silent for a moment, before the door opened again and Ushijima poked his head back into the hallway.

“Were you saying something, Daichi?”

“Where are you going?” He asked. “It’s almost eight o’clock, will the shop even be open?”

Ushijima shrugged and Oikawa wondered when the man had learned so many _expressions._ Even on the court, the only tell-tale emotion had been sheer confidence and now the guy was breaking out things like _concern_ and – albeit faint – _amusement._

“I can try.” With that, he turned back, and Oikawa could hear him opening the door when Daichi called out.

“Wait, I’ll go with you!” Daichi wasted no time in grabbing his jacket and following after the man. The door shut with a resounding click and the three of them stood there, staring at the door until Oikawa turned around and demanded Bokuto close the balcony door because it was getting chilly.

“Ah… who knew Ushijima likes plants?” Bokuto said, falling backwards onto the couch and effectively taking up half the space.

Kuroo dropped down next to him, pulling his feet up and tossing them onto Bokuto’s who kicked back. A small battle of feet ensued, and Oikawa rolled his eyes. What a bunch of children.

“How _did_ you break it anyway?” He asked, setting his hands on his hips and peering at the black-haired man. “Wasn’t that one in the hallway?”

“It wasn’t _me_ ,” Kuroo argued, “Bokuto pushed me!”

Bokuto sat up straight at that, and Oikawa took the opportunity to claim the now free seat.

Mission accomplished.

“You provoked _me_!”

“Okay, okay.” Oikawa interrupted before they could get carried away again. “What were two doing there anyway?”

They immediately went silent and Oikawa glared at them. “Were you _trying_ to break it?”

“No…?” Bokuto said slowly, but it was more like a question than a statement.

“Bokuto.” Oikawa tried to use his captain voice, but the thing was, he’d never really had to use it much. Aoba Johsai hadn’t been nearly as wild as some other teams – like Johzenji – so Oikawa never had had any reason to scold his kouhai. Of course, even when there was a reason, Iwa-chan was much better at getting them to listen.

Thinking about it, Iwa-chan was kinda like the dad. Oikawa was like the crazy uncle who dropped by after spending years in foreign countries and liked to pretend he was ‘hip’. The only difference being that Oikawa _was_ hip. Oikawa was super hip.

“Let the past be the past,” Bokuto replied dramatically, getting off the couch. “We must look forward, to the future.”

“But why were you –” Oikawa started, before Bokuto clamped his hand over his mouth.

“The future Oikawa. The future. Forget the past.”

With some difficulty, he managed to yank Bokuto’s arm away and said. “That’s not how it works –”

“I can’t hear you over the sound of my future~” The wing spiker yelled, pressing his hands to his ears.

“Oh my god, fine!” Oikawa groaned, slumping against the armrest. “Stop yelling!”

Almost immediately Bokuto stopped, grinning smugly at him. “Okay, now–”

The sound of Kuroo’s phone ringing cut him off and they watched as Kuroo fumbled for it, checking under cushions and on the floor, before remembering it was in his hoodie pocket.

“Hello~” he greeted, then grinned at the response on the other end. “I’ll save you Daichi, don’t worry.” Kuroo stood, mouthing something to Bokuto who seemed to understand immediately. “Okay, okay. Where are you?” He turned down the hallway and Oikawa heard the door open, but Kuroo popped back into the living room to wave bye, and the door shut behind him a minute later.

“Daichi and Ushijima are lost and Kuroo went to save them.” Bokuto explained when Oikawa turned to look at him.

“Ah, okay…” Oikawa nodded, wondering how they could get lost so easily. Sure, Tokyo was a big city, but google maps existed and the instructions weren’t hard to follow. Then again, he’d nearly gotten run over twice already and he hadn’t been in the city for a day yet, but that wasn’t important. What _was_ important was that Oikawa had a knack for Not-Getting-Lost-In-New-Places-Filled-With-Too-Many-People-Running-Around-24/7. It may have involved charming random strangers into helping him out, but once again _not important_.

“Well…” Bokuto started, snapping Oikawa from his thoughts of how the others ought to learn from him. “Guess we’re on our own. What d’you wanna do?”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at him. “I _will_ find out what you were up to, you know. Even if you try and change the subject.”

“Why?!” Bokuto cried, looking thoroughly exasperated that the conversation had come back to this point in a full circle.

“If I need blackmail later on~” Oikawa smirked.

“Who would you tell?” Bokuto demanded, towering over Oikawa with what would have been a centimeter difference, but he was sitting so it was more like two feet.

“Daichi.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me.”

Bokuto grumbled something under his breath and sat next to Oikawa. They didn’t say anything, simply watched the other and Oikawa found himself wondering what had inspired the man to dye his hair grey and white and then spike it up.

“Bokuto.” He started, leaning back, and resting his chin on his hand. “Why is your hair like that?”

Like a switch had been turned on, Bokuto immediately brightened, sitting up and grinning at him. “Cool, isn’t it? It’s based off a horned owl!”

Oikawa blinked. “ _Why?_ ”

“Have you _seen_ how cool they are?!” Bokuto whipped his phone out, tapping at the screen before turning it to face Oikawa. And okay, horned owls _were_ cute, like ‘Borderline Scary and Kinda Intense, Would Not Want to Meet in Person, But Are Kinda Cute If You Ignore The Sharp Claws and Creepy Stare’.

“Okay, but like, I think the Blue Glaucus is cool, but I’m not dyeing my hair blue!”

Bokuto cocked his head to the side. “A what?”

“Blue Glaucus,” Oikawa took his phone, searching up the animal. “See~” he handed the phone back to Bokuto, who looked at it in sheer amazement.

“It looks like an alien…” he whispered, scrolling through the pictures.

“ _Exactly,_ ” Oikawa said smugly. “There are conspiracies about it, you know.”

“There are?”

“Mhm. I’m pretty sure it was the result of experimentation on a normal slug, with like, the DNA of some other alien creature. Or they’re trying to disguise their own animals for spying on us so they can kidnap humans to experiment on them and create a superior breed to brainwash so they can take over the entire plant and then an intergalactic war will start and humankind will lose, because _obviously_ we haven’t been researching them like they’ve researching us and so they know all of our weaknesses and they can exploit them and so the aliens will take over Earth and we’ll become their slaves since nobody seems to believe in them, _but_ –” Oikawa paused to breathe, before continuing. “we can probably get the earth back in a few years _after_ that, because there are people – intelligent people like me – who know and so we can –”

“Oikawa,” Bokuto cut in. “I thought you wanted them to burn the city down?”

“Pfft. I’m over that.”

“Right, so why haven’t they attacked yet?”

“They’re still gathering information on us _obviously_.”

“But how? Wouldn’t you notice a tiny green alien walking around?”

“They have cameras Bokuto. Cameras!”

“Wouldn’t you notice that too?”

Oikawa hesitated, because this was the only part he hadn’t really thought about. Then Bokuto gasped and answered his own question. “The birds!”

“What?”

“You know, _birds_. How can they sit on electrical wires without getting electrocuted?” Bokuto leaned in, golden eyes bright and excited. “Because they’re robots! That must be how aliens watch us! No one pays attention to birds, right? So they can go wherever and no one will care!”

Oikawa might have heard that theory before, but now when Bokuto said it so simply, it made sense. He leaped up, peering out the glass doors of the balcony before yanking the curtain over it. “That makes so much _sense_ , I can’t believe I never realized that!”

Bokuto grinned, clearly pleased. “I’m a genius.”

“But I don’t think they’d do that to all the birds…” Oikawa hummed, sitting down next to him again. “What if someone caught on?”

“Well, they wouldn’t do that birds that live in forests, they’d probably do it to birds in the city, like pigeons.”

“I knew those fuckers couldn’t be trusted…” Oikawa muttered, shaking his head.

“I bet they have information on all of us…” Bokuto sighed, leaning back next to Oikawa. “Like when we wake up, when we brush our teeth, what we eat for breakfast, what school we go to, how much time we spend on our phone, who our friends are, every single thing we’ve done… the pigeons have seen it. _Everything._ ”

Oikawa shuddered. “They’ve seen all those missed serves…”

“Bad spikes…”

“Failed games…”

“Lost tournaments…”

“Pathetic crying…”

“Sad speeches…”

“Upset teammates…”

“Disappointed kouhai…”

“Bad tests…”

“Useless study sessions…”

“Unfinished homework…”

“Late mornings…”

“Skipped classes…”

“Unanswered texts…”

“Missed calls…”

“Depressed nights…”

“Frantic practices…”

“Trying to spend time with your friends without seeming annoying and having them ditch you and never talk to you again because they don’t like you anymore and never did but they were just putting up with you so they don’t seem rude…” Bokuto said, hugging a cushion to his chest.

They sighed simultaneously, looking mournfully at the dark TV screen.

 _Bokuto is nice,_ Oikawa decided, _he understands the conspiracies and he believes in aliens. Wait, he does believe in aliens…Right?_

“You believe in aliens, right?” He asked, turning to look at him.

Bokuto rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

“Just checking…” Oikawa hummed, more to himself than Bokuto.

 _Believes in aliens and has his own theories, which make sense… he’s cool. And his hair is better than Kuroo’s anyway…_ Oikawa nodded.

“What’s your first name?” he asked.

“Koutarou. Why?”

“Koutarou…” Oikawa said, mentally running through every nickname variation possible before settling on the one he like most. “Kou-chan~”

“Kou-chan?” Bokuto said slowly, as if testing the name out. “Okay.”

“Great. You’re officially Kou-chan now.” He clapped his hands together, as if finalizing the new nickname. “Congratulations.”

Bokuto whooped, “Hooray!” throwing his arms up in the air before pausing and lowering them. “What does it mean?”

“I don’t know.” Oikawa shrugged. “But my nicknames are very popular.”

“Really?”

“Yup, see I called Ushijima, Ushijima and now –” the front door opened, cutting Oikawa off.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Kuroo called, walking into the living room followed by Daichi and Ushijima, who was carrying a pot and a bag of dirt – sorry, _soil._ Apparently, the wing spiker _really_ liked plants. “We’re back! Did you miss me, bro?”

“I miss you all the time bro.” Bokuto replied.

“Why bro?”

“Cause I love you, bro.”

“Bro.” Kuroo pressed a hand over his heart and wiped away what Oikawa _thought_ were fake tears. He could never be sure with these two.

“Bro.” Bokuto said, as if verifying his statement.

Rolling his eyes, Oikawa turned his gaze to what was probably the only sane person in this group – aside from himself of course. “Found the plant stuff?”

Daichi nodded, watching as Ushijima opened the balcony door and set to work, moving the half-dead and slightly crushed plant to a new pot.

“I heard you got lost~” Oikawa continued, smirking when Daichi stiffened.

“Probably not the first time either~” Kuroo sang, draping his lean form over the slightly irritated man. “I bet it was confusing to see the Tokyo Tower on every street, you know.”

“Oh my god…” Daichi groaned and Kuroo laughed, saying something about ‘country bumpkin crows’. Whatever that meant.

Oikawa tilted his head, looking to Bokuto for clarification, who explained what had happened when Karasuno had gone to Tokyo for a training camp last year. “–but anyway,” Bokuto finished, just as Ushijima came back inside. The grey haired man sped to the doors, glaring at the darkness outside before roughly pulling the curtains over it. “I’m hungry.”

“Oh good,” Oikawa sighed. “Me too.”

They all turned to look at Daichi who blinked. “What do you want _me_ to do?”

“You _are_ the most responsible one here.” Ushijima said, stating the obvious. If not Daichi, then who? Kuroo? _Oikawa? Bokuto?!_ Maybe Ushijima could be responsible, if he really tried, but probably not.

“It’s not like we can cook right now,” Daichi shrugged, making Kuroo nearly slip and fall from where he was leaning on his shoulder. “And I don’t even know the city.”

“Oh, I know!” Bokuto exclaimed, vaguely reminding Oikawa of his nephew whenever he got a chance to boss him around. “There’s this really good yakiniku place –”

Kuroo groaned, “But bro, we _always_ go there~”

“That’s because it’s awesome, bro!”

“Daichi say no.” Kuroo whined, shaking the man by his shoulders. “Say no~”

“That’s a great idea, Bokuto.” Daichi said blatantly, making Bokuto cheer and Kuroo whine louder. “Let’s go.”

“But first,” Oikawa stood up. “The _pigeons_.”

Bokuto nodded and they darted down the hallway and into their respective rooms.

Oikawa rummaged through the pile of clothes he’d abandoned on his bed and found out the heaviest coats and scarves he had. It wasn’t nearly cold enough for the ridiculous number of jackets he pulled on, but it was either that or let the aliens win.

Not to mention the resulting outfit was absolutely _horrendous_ and he couldn’t believe he was going to go outside looking like this, but when the aliens lost, humankind would thank him.

He waddled out of his room, swaddled in think fabrics with clashing colors and three more scarves than necessary. Bokuto left his own room, wearing more clothes at once than Oikawa thought possible and a ski mask that covered his entire face.

No… he was wearing it backwards, never mind.

“Kou-chan, your mask is backwards,” Oikawa said, coming to a stop in the living room.

“I know, I can’t let them see my face!” Was Bokuto’ s muffled reply, before he slammed into a wall. “Ow.”

“Then how are you going to see?”

“I’ll be fine.” Bokuto made a thumbs up, before slamming into the same wall again and knocking over a lamp.

“No,” Daichi said plainly, face stern. “Change.”

“But Dai-chan~” Oikawa whined. “The birds will see!”

“The birds?” Ushijima looked at him. “What do you have against the birds?”

“They’re spies!” Bokuto exclaimed. He’d stopped trying to walk now, and simply stood there facing the one place no one was standing.

“Bro, the birds aren’t spies.” Kuroo shook his head, moving to help tug Bokuto’ s mask off.

“Yes, they are!” Oikawa argued, crossing his arms.

“Even if they are,” Daichi said, “You can’t go out like that.”

Bokuto pouted, now able to see. “Why not?”

“Well, first of all, you’re gonna get hot.”

“I’ll be fine~” Oikawa shrugged.

“I thought you cared about your appearance?” Daichi shot him a look and Oikawa wondered if he and Iwa-chan were friends, because they were really similar – but Iwa-chan was more handsome. Of course.

“For the sake of humanity.” Oikawa sighed dramatically. “I’ll suffer.”

“Okay,” Daichi shrugged, turning to the front door. “If you’d like to make fools of yourself by going outside like that–” he gestured to their outfits “– then go ahead, I mean –”

“Okay, okay.” Oikawa huffed. “But when aliens take over Earth, it won’t be my fault.” He turned on his heel and stomped back to his room, shrugging off the layers and choosing a comfortable blue jacket instead.

He did care about looking good outside, but the real decision changer had been the heat. Miyagi was higher up north than Tokyo and the clothes Oikawa had worn were for literal blizzards – not for slightly below room temperature evenings in Tokyo.

Before leaving, he tucked his phone into his pocket and saw that there were multiple messages from Iwa-chan.

“Ha. Ha.” Oikawa murmured, tapping out a response to his ‘answer me’. “You missed me, admit it.”

“Oikawa!” Daichi called.

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming!” he called back, still typing away.

8:01 pm

>>going out to eat with my roommates~~

>>don’t miss me too much

>>(¬‿¬)

>>shut up

>>bye

>>so rude~

>>iwa-chan

“Well…” he hummed, putting his phone back in his pocket – for good this time – and exiting his room.

Bokuto had changed as well, and they were all waiting for him by the door.

“You can walk faster.” Ushijima drawled and Oikawa stuck his tongue out at him, walking even slower on purpose.

“Okay, lets go.” Daichi turned, opening the door and letting in a burst of chilly air. They stepped outside and waited for him to lock the door, before starting down the stairs.

Bokuto tugged his hood over his head when they reached the ground floor. “If the birds see us…”

Oikawa zipped up his jacket, eyes searching the sky. “Then we’re doomed.”

“Nothing will happen.” Kuroo rolled his eyes.

“The aliens will take over!” Bokuto and Oikawa exclaimed simultaneously.

“I’m surrounded by idiots.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i rushing???? i feel like i'm rushing...  
> (๑•́ ₃ •̀๑)
> 
> Next Time:  
> Yakiniku and Idiots
> 
> (or something along those lines, i don't know where this is going, i'm making it up as i go. have i mentioned that before?? pretty sure i've mentioned that before... i just... i don't know man（ー○ー）＝３)
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading!!!!!


	3. Yakiniku and Idiots

“Have you ever seen them?” Kuroo snapped, glaring at brown haired man next to him. “No, because _they don’t exist_!”

“Have you ever seen an atom?” Oikawa retorted, pointing threateningly at him with a chopstick. “Do they exist?!”

“At least there’s evidence! And don’t bring chemistry into this!”

“I have evidence!” Oikawa slammed his fist onto the table, rattling the plates and glasses.

“Like what?” Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Conspiracies? Blurry pictures? False sightings? _Crop circles?_ ”

“I swear to fucking god,” Oikawa swore. “By the end of this semester I _will_ convince you of alien existence, Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“Good luck proving something that _doesn’t fucking exist_.” Kuroo shot back.

“ _Yes. They. Do._ ”

“ _No. They. Don’t._ ”

“Can you two shut up?” Daichi snapped, breaking their argument.

“But _Dai-chan_ ,” Oikawa whined, and Kuroo kinda wanted to smack him. “He said aliens aren’t real~”

“Because they aren’t…” Kuroo muttered. They were currently sitting in a booth of a fairly busy yakiniku restaurant – one Kuroo had been to far too many times, because as Bokuto said, ‘ _There is always time for meat!_ ’

No. More like, ‘ _There is always time for meat!!!_ ’

Not quite. ‘ _THERE IS ALWAYS TIME FOR MEAT!!!_ ’ Yeah, that was much more accurate.

“Five more seconds, Bokuto.” Ushijima warned and Kuroo turned to watch them. Well, not really _turned,_ since there was barely any space in the booth, and they were already pressed up next to each other. Bokuto had taught Ushijima how to play chopsticks three minutes after sitting down and they’d been playing since then.

“Don’t rush me…” Bokuto grumbled, frantically looking between his two options before sighing and smacking one of Ushijima’s hands.

“I win. 78-77,” Ushijima tapped Bokuto’s hand back with no hesitation and watched stoically as Bokuto mumbled something under his breath and began shoving food in his mouth.

“Thath’s noth par,” Bokuto whined, “I _jus_ thaught you how tho pway, why are you awedy god a ith?!”

Ushijima blinked. “What?”

“He said,” Kuroo explained. “That its not fair how he just you how to play and you’re already good at it.”

“Mhm.” The white and grey haired man nodded. “Anth I –”

“Bokuto, don’t speak with your mouth full.” Daichi interrupted.

He nodded furiously at this, swallowing quickly and nearly choking on his food for about the third time. “So, I said, why are you good at everything?”

“He’s not,” Oikawa cut in before Ushijima could answer. “He’s not good at a lot of things.”

“Like what?” Ushijima asked, crossing his arms.

“Like being nice.”

“Oh, and you are?” Daichi said dryly.

“Yes, I’m super nice.”

Kuroo gasped mockingly, “Really? I would like to know who you’ve been nice to.”

“Me too.” Bokuto called from next to him.

“Kou-chan!” Oikawa pouted. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Technically, I’m on your side too.” Kuroo shrugged, gesturing to the table. “Daichi and Ushijima are the enemy.”

“Hey!” Daichi huffed. “What’d I do?”

“I would also like to know what I have done to become the enemy,” Ushijima said.

“You mean besides being a rude little –”

“All I did was tell you what I think.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to hear what you thought!”

“You mean the whole, ‘You should have come to Shirotorizawa’ thing?” Bokuto glanced between the two of them. “We’re doing this again?”

“I wanna hear it,” Kuroo leaned forward. This could get interesting. “Go on.”

“What’d you mean ‘go on,’ it isn’t a reality show!” Oikawa scoffed, glaring at him.

Ushijima sighed. “He’s just mad Shirotorizawa always beat Seijoh.”

Oikawa opened his mouth to retort, but Kuroo cut in before he could speak. “Yeah, tell me about that! I wanna hear about every time Shirotorizawa absolutely _destroyed_ Seijoh, please.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Oikawa snapped, elbowing Kuroo in the side.

“Ah, yes. They’ve never beat us.”

“How about the rivalry between you two?” Bokuto suggested, simultaneously piling more meat onto his plate. “That seems pretty interesting.”

“That has been around since junior high school, because even then Oikawa’s school couldn’t beat mine.”

“You know what,” Oikawa interrupted. “Let’s hear the story of Shirotorizawa’s defeat to Karasuno.”

“Oh yeah,” Daichi grinned. “I like that story.”

“I like the story of Karasuno losing every single practice match during the training camp,” Kuroo offered.

“My favorite is Fukurodani defeating Nekoma 51 times!” Bokuto hollered, and if they weren’t already attracting attention before, they definitely were now.

Shirotorizawa is the strongest team –”

“Seijoh is _not_ going to lose, they’re –”

“Look, Karasuno has crazy strong players this –”

“Nekoma _will_ win nationals, I –”

“Fukurodani is the most powerful team in Tokyo and the entire –”

Kuroo had started this entire conversation to mess with Oikawa, but now it was just getting _personal._

Nekoma wasn’t the strongest team, but they were easily the most flexible and the smartest. They had the best receives, and Kenma’s ability to trick the other team was outstanding.

“Ushiwaka, I will personally –”

“There’s no way Fukurodani can lose –”

“The demon quick –”

“But Nekoma’s receives!”

“Aoba Johsai defeating Shirotorizawa is impossible –”

“If you think you can score a point on Nekoma –”

“No, Tsukishima is –”

“My kouhai will destroy your team –”

“Akaashi is too smart, you can’t –”

“Yamamoto!”

“Goshiki is an excellent ace –”

“Fuck Goshiki, _Kyotani_ is the real –”

“You’ll _never_ defeat Fukurodani –”

“Kageyama is a _genius_ –”

“No one can compare to Kenma, okay so –”

“Shirotorizawa has the best players –”

“Well, Seijoh has the best captain –”

“Guys!” Daichi held up his hands, waiting until they were quiet to continue. “We’re being _way_ too loud, and –” he looked at Oikawa. “– Ennoshita is the best captain.”

“What?” Oikawa screeched and Kuroo flinched, leaning away from the setter. “How can you say that? Do you know how difficult Mad Dog chan is? You’ve _seen_ him on the court, haven’t you? Stealing the ball even when it’s not for him?!”

“What?” Bokuto whispered to Kuroo. “Mad Dog chan? Who’s that?”

“Apparently a thief.” Kuroo whispered back, fully leaning on Bokuto now.

“Well, guess what? He actually listens to Yahaba–kun!”

“You mean he didn’t listen to you?” Kuroo asked.

“He only listened to Iwa-chan!”

“At least Yahaba only has to deal with _one_ person.” Daichi argued. “Ennoshita has to deal with Tanaka, Nishinoya, and all of the second years! And he _can_! Do you know how much _patience_ that requires?!”

“Didn’t you do the same thing?” Ushijima asked, his chopsticks halting on the way to his mouth.

“That doesn’t make it easier.” He sighed. “And I had help from the other third-years.”

“I didn’t.” Oikawa grumped. “Well, Iwa-chan helped, but Makki and Mattsun were insane. Like they’re bad enough on their own, but when you put them together –” Oikawa shuddered. “– terrifying.”

“Asahi wasn’t much help either.” Daichi countered.

“He really couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Nobody on the team ever had to worry about anything – because he did it for them! His negativity was to the point of concern.”

“But you had a manager,” Oikawa pointed out. “She seemed nice.”

Daichi nodded. “Yeah, Shimizu was really helpful.”

“See! You had more help than I did!”

“That’s one person each! We’re even!”

“Your vice-captain? Refreshing-kun?!”

“Suga would _join_ them!”

“Okay, okay.” Kuroo said loudly, waiting until they were all looking at him to continue. “You two might have had wild teammates and all, but none of you have had to rescue your six-foot-five first years from trees, so you had it easy, okay?”

And honestly, that had probably been the one time Kuroo had wondered why he was chosen captain. Lev had been a _pain_ to bring back down, and everyone else had ditched him, saying that he had been elected captain and it was thus _his_ duty to help his kouhai.

As if Kuroo had been the one to get Lev stuck up there.

“Nekoma had a six-foot-five _first year_?!” Oikawa exclaimed.

“Why was Lev in a tree?” Daichi asked.

“You _knew_ the six-foot-five first year?!”

Kuroo scoffed. “Does it matter _why_? You’d think someone so tall wouldn’t be scared of heights, wouldn’t you?!”

“Still,” Daichi continued, shaking his head. “I’d prefer that to having Tanaka try and start a fight wherever we go.”

“Oh please.” Oikawa laughed mockingly. “One time, Makki found out Kindaichi had a crush on some girl, and I had to console a crying first year, keep Kunimi from killing Makki, sort out all the rumors, and apologize to the fire department!”

“The fire department?” Bokuto repeated, blinking owlishly at Oikawa. “Why?”

“Ehh, that’s a long story, but the point is, I had to do everything because Iwa-chan wasn’t there!”

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” Kuroo propped his head up on his hand, ignoring Oikawa’s gasp of ‘ _not too bad?!_ ’ and looking around the table. “Anyone else?”

“Hmm.” Ushijima hummed, gazing up at the ceiling for a minute. “Tendou once brought four horses into the school gym.”

“What?!” Kuroo exclaimed, “Horses are scary as fuck, why would he do that?!”

Ushjima shrugged, “It was Semi’s birthday, and someone told Tendou he liked horses. Apparently, Semi does _not_ like horses.”

“What did he do?” Bokuto asked, leaning forward in his seat.

“He screamed.”

“Isn’t your coach really strict though?” Daichi said slowly. “What did he say?”

“We had to do 100 serves after cleaning up.”

Kuroo winced because _ouch._ Serves were hard enough, a 100 of them sounded like pure torture.

Oikawa squinted at the stoic man. “Don’t you _normally_ do 100 serves?”

Double ouch. Triple ouch. A hundred fucking ouches cause man that must _hurt_.

“Coach Washijo likes horses.”

“You mean the super scary coach I’ve heard about, like a million times?” Kuroo asked. “The one almost everyone in Miyagi is scared of? That one?”

“You’ve heard of him?” Ushijima tilted his head to the side, olive brown locks of hair falling into his face.

“Yeah, from Daichi and Kenma.” Daichi’s telling of the story had been more of a complaint, of how he could barely contain the overzealous tangerine, and ‘why couldn’t Hinata just _listen_ for once in his lifetime?’ Kenma’ s version was much closer to amusement – as much as someone could get from the apathetic setter, but still.

Ushijima turned to the black haired captain sitting next to him, who shrugged. “Hinata sneaking into that training camp was really annoying, okay, I had to rant to _someone._ ”

“I think I heard about that,” Bokuto sighed proudly, making a fist over his heart. “Awesome.”

“Please don’t ever tell him that.” Daichi said, looking pointedly at him. “He really doesn’t need to do that again. Ever.”

“But at least he did _something_ ,” Bokuto argued. “No one at Fukurodani would ever do something so fun.”

Daichi squinted at him, before slowly saying, “I think you and I have very different definitions of ‘fun’ Bokuto.”

“Don’t worry, bro.” Kuroo swung an arm around Bokuto’s shoulders. “You’re fun.”

Bokuto beamed at him. “Thanks, bro.”

“Remember that time you guys got lost on that field trip? At the art museum?” Kuroo reminded him with a snap of his fingers.

“Yeah, that was pretty fun.” Bokuto nodded.

“Art museum?” Oikawa quirked an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you liked art museums, Kou-chan.”

“I don’t. Well, I like _some_ , but not the boring ones, with old classical paintings and complicated kanji scrolls.”

“Those aren’t boring…” Kuroo muttered, more to himself than the others.

“And that was a field trip, so there wasn’t a choice,” Bokuto shrugged. “We ditched halfway through anyway.”

“We?” Daichi repeated.

“Yeah, me, Konoha, and Washio.”

“Huh. Washio never struck me as the type to ditch.”

Bokuto groaned. “He isn’t, it took _forever_ to convince him, but we got him to join us.”

“You just… left? In the middle of the field trip?” Ushijima said slowly, as if he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the concept of skipping. “Why?”

“It was _boring_!”

“Japanese art isn’t boring.”

“Thank you!” Kuroo exclaimed, nearly jumping out of his seat.

“It’s boring to _me_ , then.” Bokuto shrugged.

“Where did you go?” Oikawa asked, starting to pile more meat onto his plate.

“To another museum.”

Oikawa stopped with his chopsticks midair and turned to give Bokuto a confused look. “But you don’t like museums? Because they’re boring?”

“Start from the beginning, bro.” Kuroo suggested, eyes skimming over the array of sauces on the table before landing on a bottle of ketchup.

“Right.” Bokuto nodded. “So, this was during a field trip in my second year, and we went to this super boring art museum–” Ushijima huffed “–and the first years went to this _other_ museum, somewhere nearby. Akaashi included.” Daichi groaned, already able to sense where the story was going. Kuroo snorted. “Me and Konoha got bored, so we decided to ditch and managed to convince Washio to come too. Then we went to the museum Akaashi was at!”

“And this museum wasn’t boring?” Oikawa asked hesitantly, as if Bokuto’s obvious crush wasn’t visible from the other side of the country. _Oh, but he hasn’t even met Akaashi…_ Kuroo thought.

“Of course not! Akaashi was there!”

Oikawa nodded, seeming to have finally connected the dots. “Got it. Go on.”

“At the other museum, we got separated from the group and it wasn’t that big of a museum so we _could_ have found them, but Konoha said it was boring so went to this _other_ museum.”

Daichi muttered something that sounded a lot like ‘I will never understand you…’

“And this was super cool, it had moving artwork and flashing lights. Borderless of something, it was crazy! I’d totally go again if I got the chance.”

“Is that the best part?” Ushijima asked when Bokuto slowed down.

“Not even close,” Kuroo grinned. He’d heard this story about a hundred times, mostly from the owlish man himself, but also a fair number of times from a particular exasperated setter who’d gotten roped into the mess that Bokuto was. Well, Akaashi _had_ brought this upon himself… regardless, the story was one of the tamer ones.

And it was kinda boring, but that was the opinion of a guy who’d sat through eighty different versions of it, before Washio had sorted out Konoha’s lies and Bokuto’s exaggerations.

“After that, we were going to this teriyaki place that Washio really likes when we got sidetracked.”

“Naturally…” Daichi murmured.

“On the way there, there was this street that had a bunch of cars lined up and they were _racing_. So we stopped to watch them and, man it was amazing, like they were going crazy fast and they didn’t even crash! Well, one of them did, he ran into a light pole and got disqualified. Anyway, I asked them if I could have a turn and they said sure, and the others joined in too!”

Kuroo took a moment to study the faces of the audience. Ushijima was stoic faced as usual, but he was leaning forward in his seat so that had to count for something. Oikawa seemed wholly into the story, even ignoring the steady stream of ketchup Kuroo was pouring onto his plate, which was quite irritating considering the whole three seconds he’d spent choosing the sauce. Daichi looked shocked, he’d dropped his chopsticks and had seemingly forgotten about the food on his plate. As if Bokuto _wouldn’t_ have gotten involved with street racing at one point in his life.

“And it was so awesome, I only crashed twice! Konoha crashed a couple times though, but Washio and Akaashi didn’t crash _at all_. Like –” Bokuto shook his head in disbelief. “I didn’t even know Akaashi could drive, but he does it so well?! I mean, he does _everything_ perfectly because he’s Akaashi but…” Bokuto sighed, slumping against the table. “ _He’s so cool_.”

“Keep going, bro,” Kuroo encouraged, swapping the ketchup for soy sauce. This finally did get Oikawa’s attention and he promptly smacked Kuroo on the arm. He grinned because Oikawa’s plate was now filled with soy sauce and ketchup and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Yeah, it was fun until someone called the police,” Bokuto paused, thinking back to the incident. “Well, no, it was still fun, just like, 10 times faster. We managed to avoid them though –”

“How, Kou-chan? _How?_ ” Oikawa demanded. “I need _details._ ”

“Why’re you so into this?” Kuroo asked, squinting down at the setter. Okay, four centimeters wasn’t _that_ much of a difference, but whatever it was Kuroo would take it.

“Iwa-chan says no one can get into more trouble than our volleyball club, so I’ll tell him about Fukurodani’s little street racing adventure and boom – Aoba Johsai was pure perfection!”

Kuroo rolled his eyes. “You’re absolutely diabolical.”

“Continue Bokuto.” Ushijima said, effectively ending the argument before it could even begin.

“It was wintertime, right and it’d snowed pretty heavily the other day so there a huge pile of snow by this bridge, so we drove our cars off the bridge and straight into the snowbank and it was _epic_ , bro! You know those Hollywood movies, with all the explosions and whatever? It was _just_ like that, but with snow and I wish I could’ve recorded it or something, but it was freakin _awesome_!”

“How are you still _alive_ , Bokuto?” Daichi whispered, staring at him incredulously.

“We didn’t get hurt and the cars weren’t banged up too much either, so it was fine,” Bokuto shrugged, as if people _normally_ drove cars off bridges to avoid the police. “The police didn’t follow us after that though, so we ran to this mall that was nearby. There was a really nice teriyaki place inside, we ate there and then Konoha said there was this new movie that came out that he wanted to see and –” Bokuto shuddered “ -it was _terrifying_ man, the ghost was like, four years old and seeing a tiny kid in the corner of your room in the middle of the night is _traumatizing_. I couldn’t sleep for weeks after that! So, 10/10, would definitely watch again.”

“So much for traumatizing…” Oikawa muttered, snatching up an especially full bottle of chili sauce and not very discreetly starting to pour it on Kuroo’s plate.

“When we were leaving the theater, we passed this shop and man came running out with a bag and the alarms started blaring and people were shouting at him.”

“Let me guess,” Daichi said dryly, looking like he’d aged thirty years in the time span of the story. “You went after him?”

“It was the right thing to do.” Bokuto argued and Ushijima nodded.

“Yes, it was very noble of you to chase him down.”

Bokuto beamed at him. “Thanks bro!”

“The story, Bo.” Kuroo reminded, while moving as far from Oikawa as possible in the booth and ending up halfway in Bokuto’s lap.

“Right, so I started chasing the guy and Akaashi followed me. We ran halfway across the mall trying to catch the guy and I was _really,_ really close to getting him when I tripped cause there was this little girl and I would have ran over her if I hadn’t stopped. But anyway, I fell down but then _Akaashi_ caught him, and it was so cool because he did it like it was nothing but he just took a robber down and –” Bokuto groaned, dropping his head onto the table. “Akaashi is so cool, he does everything perfectly and it looks so easy cause he’d good at everything and he’s so pretty and smart and –”

“We know, bro.” Kuroo interrupted before he could start rambling about his crush for hours. It had happened before. “We know.”

“Then, uh… we left the mall and got swept up in this protest or rally – I don’t remember what is was about, but when we got away from the crowd we ended up in a completely different part of the city and had no idea where we were. That was the scariest part of the entire thing.”

“First of all, what are you two doing?” Daichi glared at Kuroo and Oikawa, gesturing at their plates which were now swamped in sauces.

“He started it, okay?” Oikawa said, putting his hands up.

“Snitch…” Kuroo muttered. “But no one told you to retaliate.”

Oikawa huffed. “As if I would just leave it.”

“You two are literal children…” Daichi sighed, massaging his temples.

“No~” Oikawa whined. “ _He_ is, I’m not.”

Kuroo pinched his side, making him yelp and sharply elbow him back.

“Can you two _act_ mature for ten minutes?” Daichi slowly said, drawing their attention. They flinched, sulking back in their seats and sliding down until they were halfway onto the floor.

The expression on his face reminded Kuroo of training camp last year, when the younger Karasuno members would start messing around and Daichi would lecture them.

Kuroo had laughed back then.

He wasn’t laughing now.

“Heh…” he gulped, suddenly wishing for Yaku instead, because at least he could run from the libero’s punches. He couldn’t exactly run from Daichi’s glare. Well, maybe if he jumped over Oikawa, he could –

“Thank you,” Daichi turned his attention to white and grey haired spiker, releasing them from the weight of his stare. “Anyway, Bokuto you were _street racing,_ then you _crashed the car,_ and then _you ran from the cops_ , _took down a burglar_ and the scariest part was getting lost in the streets?!”

“I thought the movie was the scariest part?” Ushijima asked.

“He’s the scariest.” Oikawa murmured as they sat up again. Kuroo nodded.

“Well, that’s just a movie. I’m over it.” Bokuto shrugged. “The getting lost part was scary.”

“Shouldn’t crashing a car be scarier?”

“That was _fun._ ”

“What was scary about getting lost?”

“What _isn’t_ scary about getting lost?”

“I don’t think that counts as a reason, Kou-chan.” Oikawa said.

“So, it can’t be real unless there’s a reason, right?” Kuroo asked, smirking at the setter.

“Kuroo,” Daichi warned, just as he replied, “Yes…?”

“Then _aliens can’t exist_.”

Oikawa slammed his hand down on the table, upturning a glass and spilling water everywhere. “Kuroo fucking Tetsurou, I hate you.”

“Nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well. that's that...


	4. Pigeons and Pocky

Bokuto woke up ten minutes before his alarm. This was normal; he would always wake up before his alarm and spend the time lying in bed and practicing a meditation technique Akaashi had taught him years ago.

What wasn’t normal was the presence next to him. Well, it was _kinda_ normal.

He sat up, rubbing at his eyes and throwing off the covers which earned a grumble from the man next to him. At the foot of the bed sat a laptop, having survived Bokuto’s kicking feet and reminding him of the ridiculous movies they’d watched late last night. Or early morning.

He slipped out of bed and moved towards the windows, yanking the blinds up and grinning at the sound of his friend’s yelling as the light fell on his face.

“Good morning, bro!” Bokuto said, stretching his arms above his head and running fingers through his limp hair.

“Good morning my ass…” the messy haired man muttered, pulling the sheets up and covering his head with a pillow.

“It’s morning!” Bokuto snatched the blankets away, laughing when Kuroo rolled and fell off the bed. “Wake up!”

“Fuck no, lemme sleep.” Came a mumbled reply from the floor, and when Bokuto peered over the bed, Kuroo had – apparently – fallen asleep.

“How much does he sleep?” Bokuto shook his head, combing through his still unpacked suitcase for a hoodie to ward off the April chill. He tugged on a blue one, a ratty old thing that had managed to endure his years of lack of care and opened the door to the hallway. Let the cat sleep – he’d be in for a rude awakening later anyway.

The curtains were drawn over the glass doors, making the living room dark and quiet. Bokuto paused in the middle of the room, debating between which room to barge into first.

Kuroo had already been disturbed.

Daichi might already be awake.

Ushijima would probably just sleep through his yelling.

Oikawa had the highest chances of actually _reacting_ , so he was probably the best option.

Nodding to himself, he whirled around and promptly screamed.

Ushijima stood in the hallway, a watering can in hand and aimed at the plant in the hallway. He glanced up when Bokuto screamed, expression barely changing despite the volume.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto.” Ushijima said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“How long have you been there?” Bokuto gasped, pressing a hand over his pounding heart. He could’ve sworn the hallway had been empty three seconds ago.

“The entire time.” Ushijima replied, moving past Bokuto to the kitchen to refill the can.

“Really?” Bokuto asked, watching the guy fill the can and walk to the balcony. “I didn’t see you…?”

Ushijima shrugged, pulling aside the curtains and opening the door to let in blast of chilly air. He stepped outside and closed the door behind him, immediately starting on watering the two plants outside.

 _Wait_ , Bokuto thought to himself as he walked to the balcony. _Wasn’t there only one plant yesterday?_ He pulled the sliding doors open, leaning against the frame and watching the street outside.

There were people scattered around on the sidewalk, cars had started driving around and some shops had started opening, but none of that mattered to Bokuto.

What mattered were the little devils perched on top of electric wires, chirping at one another, and hopping around, occasionally swooping down to peck at the sidewalk. The Pigeons.

Bokuto scowled, making a face at one when it tilted its head at him.

“What are you doing?” Ushijima asked as Bokuto stepped outside, turning to look at him.

“They’re spies.” He explained and the pigeon – which had now taken a spot on the balcony railing – squawked at him. “See! It understands what I’m saying! Its evil!”

Ushijima tilted his head. “I think you hurt its feelings.”

“I did?! I’m sorry!” Bokuto apologized and the pigeon cooed, before he remembered. “Wait, you’re the enemy. Why should I apologize?” he glared at the bird, which was ruffling its feathers like it was getting ready for a fight, and saw it was glaring back at him.

And Bokuto was good at staring contests. He was practically undefeated back in Fukurodani so this wouldn’t be too hard.

Except for the fact that birds don’t need to blink.

“Oh god…” he mumbled, pressing his hands to his eyes and wiping the tears that had formed from keeping them open too long. “That’s not fair….”

The pigeon hooted, puffing its feathers up and preening at the prospect of having defeated him.

Bastard.

“Don’t hurt the innocent bird’s feelings, Bokuto.” Ushijima said, moving back inside.

“I’ll get you next time…” Bokuto whispered, making a I’m-Watching-You gesture with his hands. The pigeon hooted as he walked through the balcony doors backwards, only stumbling twice.

Ushijima was washing his hands in the sink, watering can set next to him. Bokuto strolled over to him, setting his arms up on the counter between the kitchen and the living room.

“So. Is anyone else awake?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Eh, good enough.” Bokuto pushed off from the counter, swiveling to face Daichi’s door. Who better to wake first than the dad?

He quietly opened the door, blinking until his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. Then he padded his way over to the lump on the mattress.

Daichi was sound asleep. Perfect.

He crouched down, counted to five in his head and then screamed.

Like planned, Daichi shot up, and smacked Bokuto on the head with a pillow. Well, the second part wasn’t planned, but it was close enough.

“Ow!” Bokuto whined, falling back onto the floor and rubbing his head. “That hurts!”

“You know what else hurts?” Daichi glared at him, voice low and rough from sleep. “My ear, after you fucking _screamed_ into it!”

“I needed to wake you up!”

“Bokuto,” Daichi looked at the alarm clock next to his bed. “Its six am. Let me sleep.”

“It’s _already_ six am,” Bokuto reasoned, standing up and brushing off his sweatpants. “Time to wake up and start the day.”

“To do what?” Daichi scoffed, already under the covers again.

“We, uh… we don’t have food! What are we going to eat?!”

“Wake me up after eight and we’ll talk.” Daichi muttered, gesturing to the door. “Now go.”

“Come on,” Bokuto whined, shaking him.

“I swear to fucking god, Bokuto.” Daichi warned, using the same tone he’d used last night on Kuroo and Oikawa. “Let me sleep.”

“Okay, okay…” he pouted, grumping the entire way out of Daichi’s room. Ushijima had gone out on the balcony again and he – was talking to the pigeon?

Bokuto squinted at him, and no, he wasn’t talking to the pigeon. He was talking to the plant. That made _much_ more sense.

“Not going to get involved with that…” he muttered to himself, moving down the hallway. If Ushijima wanted to get caught by the aliens, then he could, but Bokuto was never going to let them win. He opened the door to his room, rolled his eyes at the still sleeping Kuroo – the guy hadn’t even bothered to get back up, instead pulling the blanket down so he could wrap it around him.

Luckily, he had brought something with him that _might_ be able to wake him up.

He sneakily walked past Kuroo, opening his closet door – sneakily – and pulling out a large case – very sneakily, of course. He set the case down on the bed, unlatched the locks and swung open the lid to reveal a very shiny trombone.

Bokuto had learned how to play the instrument as a prank years ago, but it’d stuck with him and he ended up finding a whole new use for it. Mainly to barge into Kuroo’s room on the weekends around eight am to drag the man out of bed and rope him into whatever elaborate plan Bokuto had devised for the day, but it was useful, nonetheless.

He carefully took out the instrument, bringing the instrument to his lips and getting ready to blow when an idea struck him.

Kuroo was already used to trombone blasting in the morning, having spent three years getting used to it. Hell, the guy was probably _expecting_ it!

But there was another person in the apartment; someone who wasn’t awake, someone who hadn’t been bothered already, someone who wasn’t used to the trombone.

Bokuto grinned, tucking the instrument under his arm and making his way to the door. The room was right next to his, and he slowly swung open the door.

Sure enough, there was still a lump of a human being under the covers – star patterned, he noted with no little amount of amusement. Before continuing with his barely strung together plan, Bokuto took a good minute to wonder at the sheer number of clothes piled onto the desk.

For someone who wore the same shirt for three days straight, needing _four different colored hats_ seemed a bit excessive. Who even _wore_ hats these days?!

He stood by the bed, positioning himself so the trombone was right above the patch of milky brown hair peeking out from under the covers. Then he started playing.

He was expecting Oikawa to scream or shout or maybe fall out of bed.

He wasn’t expecting the pillow flung his way – very rudely too – but at this point he should have.

“What the fuck, Kou-chan?!” Oikawa snarled, glaring at him – and apparently Daichi wasn’t the only scary guy around here. Well, no, Daichi was much scarier, but Oikawa was _trying,_ and Bokuto supported him wholeheartedly. As long as he wasn’t aiming it at _him_.

“It’s morning time!” Bokuto cheered.

Oikawa groaned, slumping back onto his bed and smushing his face with a pillow. “No~ I wanna sleep more!”

“The sun is shining –” Bokuto set his trombone down and practically skipped to the windows “– the birds are chirping –” he yanked up the blinds “– and it’s time to start the day!”

“Its. Six. In. The. Morning.” Oikawa hissed, tucking himself away from the sunlight. “The birds are evil, and I only function after seven. Goodbye.”

“Why?!” Bokuto whined.

“I’ve already explained why the birds are evil.”

Bokuto groaned, glaring at the setter for a few minutes until it became clear Oikawa would not be leaving his bed anytime soon. Grabbing his trombone, he trudged out of the room and returned to his own, setting the instrument on his desk.

He walked to his window, staring outside and trying to form a plan to get everyone out of bed. It really didn’t help that the same damn pigeon from before had decided to sit on his window and preen it’s feathers, all the while staring back at Bokuto through the glass.

He _really_ tried not to start another staring contest. He really did.

“I will win this time…” he whispered, literally prying his eyelids open with his fingers.

The bird stared at him. And stared at him. And stared.

He hissed, shutting his eyes closed as tears slid down his face.

And the bird had the _audacity_ to hoot about its victory. Bastard.

“Bro, are you crying?!” a voice called out and Bokuto turned to see Kuroo peering over the bed at him.

He rubbed at his eyes. “No, I was having a staring contest.”

“With your reflection?” Kuroo quirked an eyebrow at him, smirking.

“There’s this pigeon.” He moved to the side to show the bird still hooting behind the glass.

“You were having a staring contest with a bird?” Kuroo squinted at him.

“Yeah.”

He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it and grinned. “Go on.” He flopped down onto the floor again and Bokuto quickly rushed to him.

“No way, bro.” he prodded Kuroo’s shoulder. “You’re awake, get up.”

A muffled reply came from the blanket, “No, I’m still asleep.”

“Nu uh.” He grabbed his arm and yanked, pulling Kuroo into a sitting position.

“Bro, I thought you loved me~” Kuroo whined, even though he was letting Bokuto drag him up.

“I do, bro. This is for your own good.”

“How?”

Bokuto didn’t reply, instead set Kuroo on his feet and pushing him gently in the direction of the door. “We’re going shopping later. Daichi said.”

“Later?” Kuroo turned to squint at him.

“He said he’s going to sleep till eight so –” Bokuto shrugged.

“ _He_ gets to sleep till eight and I have to get up at –” he looked at the alarm clock. “– six thirty? So unfair…” he opened the door and walked out, shutting it behind him.

“One down, two to go…” he sighed, tugging at locks of white and grey hair. “Daichi’ll kill me if I try again and Oikawa might find something harder to throw…” he tsked. “…what’s Ushijima doing?”

Bokuto opened the door, a plan forming in his mind as he walked to the living room.

\---

Twenty minutes later found Bokuto humming in the kitchen, fire alarm blaring and three pigeons doing their best to either ruin or steal anything they could get their talons on.

“Was eight o’clock such an unreasonable request?” Daichi growled, flapping a towel at the fire alarm.

“Ha!” Oikawa scoffed from where he stood on the back of the couch. “I asked for _seven_ and even _that_ was unreasonable.” He lunged, reaching for one of the pigeons sitting on the ceiling fan and missed, falling to the floor. “Ow!”

“Dramatic much?” Kuroo muttered, rolling over on the couch. He’d originally gone back to his own room to sleep, when Bokuto had dragged him out of there, he’d fallen asleep on the couch. “It’s not that hard to catch a bird.”

“Oh really?” Oikawa mocked. “Catch one then, lazy bastard.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes. Then, just as a pigeon swooped down from the fan, his fist snapped out and clamped around the bird. “See? Easy.”

“What the fuck?! No, that isn’t easy! What is _wrong_ with you?!”

“Bokuto, what was all this for?” Daichi exclaimed, drowning out Oikawa and Kuroo’s heated argument.

“To wake you up, of course!” He replied cheerfully.

Daichi took in a deep breath, as if trying to control his anger. “Bokuto…” he said slowly, and Bokuto couldn’t help but lean away from the intensity if his voice. “Releasing pigeons on us is not an alternate solution to an alarm clock.”

“But you weren’t waking up!” he reasoned and somewhere in the background Oikawa screamed about ‘being absolutely _insane_ ’.

“How did you catch them anyway?” Daichi asked, leaning against the counter. “Three of them, too.”

Bokuto huffed, nervously rubbing the back of his head. “Wha – I mean, I guess I’m just good at catching birds… you know, volleyball reflexes…?”

“Uh huh.” Daichi nodded slowly, clearly not having believed a single word he said. “You’re not good at lying, Bokuto.”

“I’m not lying!”

Daichi rolled his eyes, tossing the towel onto the counter and turning back to his room. “Sure… can you get them out at least?”

He was totally lying, but how was he supposed to explain he’d bribed his Staring-Contest-Nemesis-& Co. into the house by promising breadcrumbs for a month? The pigeon – now named Hatō – was surprisingly tough to make deals with.

“You snatched a _bird_ _midflight with your bare hands,_ and the worst part, _you weren’t even looking!_ ” Oikawa exclaimed, still arguing with Kuroo. “What are you? A cat?!”

Kuroo smirked and shrugged his shoulders.

Bokuto whistled, effectively catching everyone’s attention. “Okay, Hatō and Co. time to go.” The pigeons hooted and promptly flew out the balcony door – the one Oikawa had been trying to get them out of for the past ten minutes. The third one, still trapped in Kuroo’s fist, pecked and hooted at him until he finally let it go.

“You named the bird?” Oikawa asked, swiveling to face him. “You befriended the _enemy_?!”

“You know, I thought you’d be madder he could get them out so easily…” Kuroo sighed. “Clearly, that wasn’t the important thing here.”

“I didn’t befriend him! Hatō is my archnemesis!” Bokuto argued, completely ignoring Kuroo.

“Hatō…” Kuroo muttered to himself. “You named the pigeon, ‘Pigeon.’ Genius.”

Oikawa crossed his arms. “Why would you strike a deal with your archnemesis?”

“Don’t we all?” Kuroo leaned back on the couch, tucking his feet up.

“I had to do what had to be done.” Bokuto said, voice somber as if he’d just sold the country’s secrets to the enemy. No. He’d sold the world’s secrets by letting the alien spies into the apartment.

“How was any of that –”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Daichi interrupted, walking out of his room. “That’s the end of that. We have to go shopping today.”

“Shopping?” Oikawa repeated.

“Grocery shopping!” Bokuto cheered, heading to his room to change.

“Oh.” Oikawa nodded, then sighed. “Great…”

“It’ll be fun!” Bokuto called back and opened his door, stepping inside and shutting it behind him. Where had he put his hair gel?

\---

“I agree with Daichi.” Ushijima said as they walked out of the coffee shop. The plan was to go the grocery store, but it had only taken five minutes to understand that Daichi probably wouldn’t be able to function unless caffeinated. So here they were, causing a ruckus as he tried to get coffee.

“Thank you, Ushijima.” Daichi replied, crumpling his now empty coffee cup and trashing it. “Now will you three cut it out?”

“This time Oikawa started it.” Bokuto held his hands up in surrender.

Oikawa gasped and shoved him. “I did _not._ ”

“Fine, you and Kuroo started it.”

“Bro!” Kuroo exclaimed, peering over Oikawa to look at him. “Why you gotta do me dirty like that?!”

“I don’t care who started it!” Daichi stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, turning to look at them. “Just stop acting like morons all the time.”

“Ossu!” they shouted simultaneously and Daichi groaned, but started walking, nonetheless.

“You know, Daichi,” Kuroo started, tucking his hands into his coat pocket. “There sure are a lot of Tokyo Towers around here…”

Bokuto laughed and Daichi shook his head, muttering something that sounded a lot like, ‘that wasn’t even me…’

Oikawa seemed to tense beside him, and Bokuto nudged his shoulder. “What?”

“Hm? No, nothing…” Oikawa murmured, eyes focused on his shoes.

Kuroo, seeming to notice, swung an arm around the setter but didn’t say anything. They reached the grocery store not long after, most of the conversation from Bokuto and Kuroo.

“Please try to be sane.” Bokuto heard Daichi mutter before they entered. The shop was only slightly busy, rows of snacks and sweets stretching far back – and ooh, they had super spicy chicken. Bokuto would _definitely_ be getting those.

“So, what do we have to buy?” Kuroo asked, and they all turned to look at Daichi.

He blinked. “Why – agh, never mind. We need vegetables, snacks and –”

“I call snacks!” Bokuto cheered, already walking off. That chicken had his name written all over it.

“Fine, then I’ll take vegetables…” Oikawa huffed.

“Guys –”

Ushijima followed after Bokuto, disregarding Daichi and picking up a basket. “I would like to help with the snacks.”

“Sure, bro!”

“ _Guys­ –_ ”

“Guess I got vegetables then…” Kuroo sighed, trailing after Oikawa. Daichi seemed on the verge of snapping. Oops.

Bokuto picked up two packets of chips. “Do you prefer salty or spicy, Ushijima?”

“Spicy.”

“Me too.” Bokuto nodded and put both packets in the basket. He combed through the shelves until they had at least one of everything.

“Bokuto.” Ushijima said slowly. “Why do we need three different cereals?”

He lifted up one of the boxes. “One is for happy days –” held up another one “– one for sad days –” he held up the final box. “ – and this one for fun days.”

Ushijima squinted at him. “Happy days and fun days are different?”

“Yes.”

“… how?”

“See, happy days is when you wake up and the sky is blue, and the sun is bright and the weather’s warm and nice! Fun days are when there’s a holiday and it’s snowing, and we get to stay home!”

“Ah.” Ushijima nodded. “So you can only have happy days in the summer and fun days in the winter.”

“No, no, no. I mean happy days are when you’re in a good mood –” he waited for Ushijima to nod before continuing. “– and fun days are when you go out and do something fun!”

“But I thought fun days are when you get to stay home…?”

Bokuto huffed, staring down at the cereal boxes. How was he supposed to explain this? “Happy days are when…” he started slowly. “You go to school and get to see all your friends and talk to them and spend time with them. Fun days are when you… play volleyball! When I get to play with my friends and defeat other teams and spike Akaashi’s sets and score points – that’s fun!” Bokuto grinned, enthusiasm increasing with every word.

Ushijima nodded sincerely. As sincerely as someone can nod anyway. “Happy is when you win a practice match. Fun is when you get to nationals.”

That wasn’t exactly what Bokuto meant, but Ushijima seemed to get the basic idea of it, so it was good enough. “Yep, exactly!”

“So are sad days for losing?”

“Kinda.” Bokuto shrugged, moving on to the sweet aisle and grabbing things off the shelves. Pocky, chocolate, Oreos, more pocky, Kit Kat, strawberry pocky, Hiyoko sweets – and was that really enough pocky?

 _Just to be safe,_ Bokuto thought and grabbed four more packs of almond flavored pocky. _Just to be safe._

“Do you prefer the chocolate or the cheesecake one?” Bokuto asked, turning to the other man. The ones he’d gotten before were all his.

“Ah, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Ushijima shrugged. “I never tried them.”

“What?!” Bokuto exclaimed, loud enough to attract the attention of the other few people in the aisle. “You’ve – how – oh my _god_ – why?!”

“It’s not healthy.”

“Of course, it isn’t! But it’s delicious! You haven’t eaten _any_ sweets?! _Ever?!_ ”

“I have…”

Bokuto narrowed his eyes at him. “But…?”

“I don’t eat –” he looked down at the basket. “– so many. At once.”

“When we get back, I’ll make sure you try every single one of these!” Bokuto promised, throwing in even more packets of pocky. They’d need a lot to make sure Ushijima tried every single one.

“Maybe we should get another basket.” Ushijima said, catching a box of Oreos as it slid off the mountain of snacks.

“Good idea!” Bokuto snapped his fingers, making finger guns at him. He sped to the front of the store, grabbed a basket and returned to Ushijima, barely avoiding running into people along the way. “Here.”

They dumped half the contents of the first basket into the second.

“This seems like a lot.” Ushijima said.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be gone really quick.” Bokuto turned back to the shelves. They had some _really_ good stuff here. “Now, should we get melon bread or milk –”

“Bo!” Kuroo exclaimed, popping his head into the aisle. “You’ll never _believe_ what we found!”

“What’d you find?” Bokuto asked and Kuroo rolled out a shopping cart. A basket inside was half filled with vegetables. He gasped dramatically, dropping his basket and rushing over. “Bro!”

“Bro.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, bro?”

“I think I’m thinking what you’re thinking, bro.”

“I think you think you’re thinking what I’m thinking, but I’m not thinking what you’re thinking about thinking, bro.”

“No way. I’m thinking what you think I’m not thinking about your thinking. You’re totally thinking what I’m thinking about thinking though, bro.”

“Really, bro?”

“Really, bro.”

Ushijima blinked in confusion behind them. “What?”

“Ignore them…” Oikawa sighed, walking into the aisle. His eyes latched onto the packets still in Bokuto’ s hands, and he grabbed the milk bread and tossed it into the basket.

“Should we?” Bokuto prompted, already taking the vegetables out of the cart.

“Naturally,” Kuroo grinned, holding the cart steady as his friend sat down.

“What are you doing?” Ushijima asked.

“Racing.” They answered simultaneously.

Oikawa groaned, facepalming then suddenly straightened. “You can’t race with only one team.”

“Hmm.” Kuroo hummed. “What are you suggesting?”

“I wanna race too.”

Bokuto cheered. “Awesome! You and Ushijima versus me and Kuroo!”

“Wait, no I don’t wanna team up with Ushiwaka!”

“But Kuroo and I already teamed up.” Bokuto shrugged. “There’s no other way. Unless you wanna ask _Daichi_.”

“And he’ll never agree.” Kuroo warned.

Oikawa groaned. Then was quiet. Then, “Fine.”

“Alright.” Ushijima said.

“I’ll be right back…” Oikawa called out, already running down the aisle.

“You better not let me crash this time,” Bokuto warned, turning to look Kuroo in the eyes. He still had scratches from last time when he’d crashed into a particularly sharp display. Now he was banned from the shop, which was a shame since they had a wonderful pocky selection.

Kuroo laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ve been practicing.”

“What?” Bokuto gasped.

“I’m back.” Oikawa sang, rolling the cart over to Ushijima. “So. Who’s driving?”

They stared at each other for a minute before Kuroo cut in. “Maybe play –”

“No, its fine, you can drive…” Oikawa sighed and Bokuto couldn’t tell if the guy just _really_ wanted to defeat them or was actually trying to get along with Ushijima. Maybe both. “We are _not_ losing, understand Ushiwaka?”

Ushijima nodded. “Of course. Otherwise, we’d have to eat the ‘sad day’ cereal and I don’t like cereal.”

“uh…” Oikawa scrunched his brow but didn’t ask. “Right….” He swung his leg over the edge and sat down in the cart. “so… where are we racing to?”

“Uh, hot food section on the other side of the store?” Kuroo suggested and Oikawa nodded. “At the count of three – ready, 1, 2 –”

A family of three came wandering into the aisle, completely halting their plans. They waited quietly, trying to look as if two adults sitting in grocery carts _wasn’t_ weird at all and hey, they ought to try it too!

“If I crash this time,” Bokuto whispered, looking at Kuroo. “I’m going to tell Kenma _you_ were the one who broke his DS.”

Kuroo gasped. “Bro!”

“I’m warning you now, Kuroo Testurou.”

“I swear you won’t crash.”

“Yeah.” Bokuto squinted. “Cause you’ve been _practicing.”_

“No, I mean I was playing Mario Kart with Kenma, so…” Kuroo shrugged.

“Oh, okay.” Bokuto nodded, relaxing. Then swiveled around, “Wait, how will that help –”

“Ah, they left!” Kuroo exclaimed, cutting him off. “1, 2, 3, _go!_ ”

They burst down the aisle at full speed and Bokuto whooped. Oikawa yelled something but he wasn’t listening because they were gaining speed and they would be the first around the corner and –

Suddenly the cart jerked back and Bokuto fell backwards, colliding roughly against the metal. He rubbed his head and looked over to Oikawa’s cart. The setter had apparently hit his arm and was cursing something – or someone – under his breath.

That’s when Bokuto felt it.

Icy cold wind brushing against the back of his neck and making him gulp in fear. Somewhere in the distance, police sirens blaring and thunder rumbling, the sounds of danger and sheer terror. Cold sweat had broken out on his skin but there was no way he was going to risk moving and suffering the wrath of the demon behind him.

“What are you four doing…?” The demon said slowly, and Bokuto could practically _see_ their funerals – on a plus note, Akaashi left very pretty flowers.

Unable to help himself, he turned slowly, eyes landing on Oikawa along the way. The setter seemed as terrified as he felt, even Ushijima looked –

The thing standing just behind Kuroo and Ushijima was _not_ human. It _looked_ like a human, _sounded_ like a human, it even _dressed_ like a human! But it was _terrifying._ Bokuto could see the cold, dark aura radiating off of it, and he swore its eyes were glowing red.

“Dai-chan…” Oikawa said weakly, then laughed nervously and scooted to the very edge of the cart.

“He-hey man, how’s it going…?” Kuroo tried to grin but then the demon – there was no way that could be _Daichi_ – looked at him and he flinched.

“You tell me, _Kuroo_.” The demon crossed its arms. “Weren’t you and Oikawa getting vegetables?”

How did the demon know their names?!

“I – uh, we did… get the vegetables, I mean, Daichi.”

“And why are you here?”

Ushijima opened his mouth to respond but it – Daichi?! – didn’t wait.

“Causing trouble? _Again?!_ ”

“Um…” Bokuto winced when its gaze shifted to him. “We – we’re sorry…?”

“ _Then stop acting like children all the time._ ”

“Yes sir…” they said simultaneously.

Then the demon sighed – and it was Daichi? Had it been Daichi the entire time? Since when did Daichi become so _scary_?!

“Please tell me you all finished?” he asked, glancing between the four of them. “And get out of the carts. I swear if we get banned from this grocery store – the other one is more than half an hour away.”

“Uh, yeah…” Bokuto said, hopping out of the cart. They’d forgotten about the actual shopping, and the three baskets had been pushed off to the side. He picked up the ones with snacks and Daichi’s reaction was immediate.

“No, put some of those back.” He shook his head.

“What~” he pouted, making puppy dog eyes at the man to no avail.

“We’re here to buy things, Bokuto, not put them out of business.”

“But I need it!” he latched onto Daichi arm; earlier terror now forgotten. “Please!”

“You can get whatever you can fit in _one_ basket.”

“But Ushijima hasn’t ever tried any of these!”

This earned a gasp from both Kuroo and Oikawa, and even a surprised sound from Daichi.

“Well,” Daichi shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to share.”

“ _But_ _Daichi_!” Bokuto whined, every syllable drawn out. He was completely hanging off of Daichi now, practically kneeling on the floor, but the old captain didn’t seem concerned in the slightest. As if he _hadn’t_ just told Bokuto to share his worldly treasures and most loved sweets.

“What about me?” Oikawa asked, climbing out of his own cart.

“All of you. One basket.”

“Hey, man.” Kuroo pleaded. “We’re sorry, okay? Don’t be cruel.”

“Not being cruel. Bokuto get off.” Daichi shook his arm but Bokuto’s grip only tightened. He sighed. “You have five minutes to decide what to get rid of.”

Immediately, Bokuto leaped to the baskets, joined by Oikawa as they dug through it and pulled out the ones they didn’t like. In the end, they were left with a basket full of pocky and milk bread. Nothing else.

“Okay, that’s unfair.” Kuroo pointed at the basket. “I should get a say too.”

“Three minutes,” Daichi called and Kuroo grabbed something off the shelf and practically chucked it at them.

“Oh, you’re actually timing them?” Ushijima said, seeming surprised.

“Mhm.” Daichi nodded, then muttered something that made him smile. As much as Ushijima could smile, anyway, so something more like a half – grin at something not all that funny but kinda amusing.

Or whatever.

“Hey, leave my pocky alone!” Bokuto huffed.

Kuroo groaned. “Bo, you have _ten packs_ of the same flavor.”

“I like it!”

“Bro?”

“Hmph. Fine…” he relented.

“One minute.”

“Bokuto, why do you need fourteen different flavors of pocky?” Oikawa asked, squinting at the white and grey haired man.

“Because they’re all delicious and I love them.”

Oikawa shook his head, “That doesn’t… never mind…”

“Okay, times up.” Daichi said and they stood up reluctantly. “Let’s go.”

They walked to the checkout, and eventually passed it too, not that Bokuto noticed. No, he was far too busy bemoaning the loss of his snacks – he hadn’t really lost anything though – with Oikawa. The cashier – a teenager, definitely – didn’t even glance at them, having already singled Daichi out to be the only sane person in their group.

“I’m sorry, please ignore them.” Daichi said, as Bokuto wept about the loss of his orange flavor.

“Don’t worry about,” the cashier replied, busy scanning the packets as Oikawa cried about losing the opportunity to eat melon bread too. “There are worse.”

Daichi said something back, but Bokuto wasn’t listening because, “I’ve never even gotten to try blueberry pocky! What has capitalism turned the world into?”

“Maybe,” Oikawa sniffled. “It’d be better if the aliens took over. Maybe the world would be finally be safe from the cruelties of large corporations taking advantages of people…”

The cashier looked at them then, face scrunching up in either concern or confusion.

“I’m really sorry,” Daichi sighed.

The rest of the checkout went by pretty fast, probably because the cashier wanted them gone as soon as physically possible, but Bokuto liked to think it was out of concern for their _obvious_ distress.

“Dai-chan.” Oikawa said when they stepped out of the store, grabbing onto Daichi’s arm. “Can we eat the snacks?”

“If it makes you shut up for two minutes, then yes, go ahead.” Daichi groaned.

“Yay!” Bokuto cheered, digging through the plastic bags for chocolate pocky. He tore open the packet, then handed a few to Ushijima and Daichi – the guy looked like he needed something sweet, okay?

“That was the most boring grocery run I’ve ever done…” Kuroo sighed, snatching several sticks from the box.

“Really?” Daichi grumbled, glaring mildly at the messy haired man. The chocolate was working.

“Yeah,” Kuroo grinned. “It’d have been _much_ more fun if we got to race.”

“Uh huh, then _you_ would be the one walking half an hour more to the other grocery store, right?”

“But’s it _fun_.” Oikawa argued around a mouthful of bread.

“Yes, the sheer terror at hurtling past sharp and potentially dangerous shelves and vulnerable, unsuspecting people before getting kicked outside and being permanently banned from the store, is _fun_.”

“The shop wasn’t that busy.” Ushijima added.

“That doesn’t make it okay…” Daichi sighed.

“You know what Daichi.” Bokuto said, waving the pocky stick in his hand around. “ _You_ need to try it.”

“No, I don’t. I like keeping my dignity, thank you very much.”

“He’s just jealous because he knows he can’t beat us in a race,” Kuroo smirked smugly, fist bumping Bokuto.

Daichi rolled his eyes. “And I don’t want to.”

“You should try it though….” Bokuto huffed, going to bite down on the sweet in his hand and meeting only air. It had been in his hand only second ago?

He stopped in his tracks, looking back to see if he could have dropped it somewhere.

“Bo?” Kuroo called, from where the rest of the group paused up head. “What happened?”

“I –” he gasped, eyes catching on an all too familiar bird.

Not ten feet away sat his archnemesis, the bane of his existence, the villain of his story; Hatō the Pigeon, and in his evil clutches was the pocky stick that belonged to _Bokuto_. The pigeon hooted, crushed the sweet and _ate it_ , the sweet that belonged to _Bokuto_ _Koutarou_.

Bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe we’ll get to see them actually cart race. Maybe Bokuto will finally defeat his archnemesis, Hatō the Pigeon. Maybe the world will be overtaken by aliens due to Hatō the Pigeon’s evil scheming. Who knows?  
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Next Time:  
> Cooking and Ushijima Wakatoshi is a perfectionist


	5. Toasters and Drama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back!!!۹(ÒہÓ)۶  
> i had midterm last week and god i hate chemistry....(T⌓T)
> 
> ANYWAY  
> the chapter is kinda short cuz i had to study

“You blew up the toaster.”

“Like I said,” Kuroo argued. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“Actually, it was  _ completely _ his fault.” Oikawa clarified, crossing his arms, and taking a seat on a kitchen stool.

Ushijima nodded. “Yes, he was the one who stabbed it.”

“Well, uh…” Bokuto said sheepishly. “I had a minor role, so I’m innocent.”

“You  _ blew up the toaster _ .” Daichi repeated.

“Yes, I think we’ve already established that Dai-chan.”

“I leave for two minutes and  _ you blow up the fucking toaster. _ ”

Ushijima frowned. “Not quite, Kuroo and Bokuto were the ones who made it explode. Neither I nor Oikawa did anything.”

Kuroo and Bokuto’ s exclamations of ‘I’m innocent!’ and ‘Why is everyone here a snitch?!’ went ignored as Daichi turned to Ushijima.

“Exactly. You didn’t  _ do _ anything. Meaning you didn’t stop them either.”

He opened his mouth to argue because how could he have possibly known they were going to blow up kitchen appliances? Then again, most people didn’t stab toasters with forks…

But Ushijima had never used a toaster before! He didn’t even like toast!

“Daichi, it was an accident, I  _ swear _ .” Kuroo continued. 

“How did you  _ accidentally _ destroy the toaster?” Daichi gestured at the black soot covering half the kitchen counter and the broken pieces of plastic and metal scattered everywhere. “Not to mention half the kitchen!”

“Daichi, I’m innocent~” Bokuto whined, making a pathetic face at the man. 

“Really?” Daichi scoffed, completely unbothered by Bokuto’ s increasingly miserable face.

Ushijima was just glad Daichi wasn’t as mad as he was back in the grocery store the other day. That had been mildly frightening.

“Hold on.” Kuroo straightened, eyes narrowing suspiciously at Karasuno’s . “How come  _ you’re _ the boss?”

Daichi blinked. “What?”

“We’re all former captains, so how come  _ you _ get to be the captain of captains?”

“Oh my god…” Daichi rolled his eyes. “Maybe because I’m the only mature one here?”

“Hey!” Oikawa exclaimed, straightening in his seat so fast he nearly toppled the stool over. “I’m mature!”

“No, you’re not.” Ushijima said calmly. “The first time I beat you in junior high, off court you told me ‘Next time, I’ll beat you so badly, you’ll never show your face on court again.’ That’s not mature. And you never beat me.”

Oikawa flushed. “I still have time to beat you, Ushiwaka! Don’t get too cocky! And that was back in junior high! I’m  _ much _ more mature now!”

Ushijima squinted. He hadn’t seen any development from the setter in the past years of rivalry. “Really? I haven’t noticed.”

“Why you –!”

“See, this is what I meant.” Daichi sighed for what was probably the eightieth time today. 

“No one ever said Oikawa was mature,” Kuroo shrugged. “But  _ me _ ? I am.”

“I’m mature…” Bokuto huffed. 

“I also think I count as mature.” Ushijima said and Oikawa laughed mockingly. 

“First of all, Kuroo, you pick fights with  _ everyone _ . You’re worse than Tanaka is and he’s gotten into a record of five fights before one match.” ***************

“No, I don’t.” Kuroo huffed. “People pick fights with  _ me _ , I’m the victim here!”

“Wait, what match was it?” Bokuto whispered, turning to Oikawa and Ushijima. 

“I think it was during the –” Ushijima started just as Daichi continued. 

“You were the one who kept taunting Oikawa about the aliens –”

“The  _ fictional _ aliens, you mean.”

“I swear, Kuroo –” A plastic cup went flying at the man’s face and Oikawa swore when he dodged it. 

Daichi sighed. “See this is what I meant, you  _ know _ what Oikawa’s like. But you keep provoking him.”

“Wait, what am I like?” Oikawa frowned, crossing his arms. 

“I’m telling him the truth,” Kuroo shrugged nonchalantly. “Its not my fault he’s been brainwashed so badly he can’t understand.”

“But does it  _ matter _ ?” Daichi pressed and Ushijima had to agree. The argument (Aliens: Are They Real?) had been running for three days now and it was rather annoying to hear Kuroo and Oikawa screaming at each other – well, Oikawa was screaming – at one in the morning. If Ushijima had to hear about ’world domination’ or ‘excessive brain damage due to conspiracy theories’ one more time, then he’d just sit in his room and play music. 

To drown out their screams as Daichi got mad at them for yelling at one am with Bokuto’s trombone for background music.

It was a foolproof plan. 

“Of course, it matters, Dai-chan!” Oikawa snapped. “The aliens are preparing for  _ world domination _ , don’t you understand?!”

Kuroo groaned. “The conspiracy theories are–”

“Bro –” Bokuto swung an arm around his friend. “The aliens are real, even if you don’t believe in them.”

“So, he’s gotten to you too.” Kuroo shook his head and patted Bokuto’s arm sympathetically. 

“Excuse me?” Oikawa scoffed, glaring at him. “What’s  _ that _ supposed to mean?”

“It means you all have the brain of a kindergartener.” Daichi cut in before the argument could spiral out of control. “Like Hinata or Kageyama when practice is cancelled.”

Bokuto gasped. “What?! Hinata is  _ perfect _ !”

“Well, Kageyama  _ is _ pretty childish….” Oikawa hummed. 

“But you’re not any better.” Ushijima reminded him. 

The setter scowled, “Fuck off Ushiwaka.”

Ushijima shrugged. He’d only been telling the truth.

Meanwhile, Bokuto had latched onto Daichi and was shaking him back and forth. “How  _ dare _ you insult Hinata! My student! My protégé! My child! The light of my life!”

“I thought Akaashi was the light of your life?” Kuroo grinned. 

Bokuto paused. “Hinata is the  _ second _ then.” He resumed shaking. “HOW DARE YOU!!!”

“Hinata isn’t that great.” Ushijima said and Bokuto’s golden eyes immediately turned on him. 

“The audacity! To insult my  _ son _ !” Bokuto screeched, glaring up at Ushijima and setting his arms on his hips. 

“How is he your son?” Daichi said slowly, blinking at Bokuto. 

“Because I love him.” Bokuto huffed. “Now, answer me Ushijima! Or is there nothing to back up your  _ ridiculous _ claim?!”

“Hinata is not a good spiker.” Ushijima said. Oikawa snorted in the background. “He has no technique, and his lack of height is an extreme disadvantage, yet he keeps playing. It’s foolish.”

“Hinata is a wonderful spiker! He’s my  _ protégé!  _ Not just anyone can become my student you know,”

“Just because he’d your protégé doesn’t make him special.”

“Yes it does! That’s what a protégé  _ is, _ someone who you teach because they have potential. Its like –” Bokuto’s arms flailed as he struggled to find words. “The most beautiful relationship ever!!!”

Ushijima blinked. “Kageyama is Oikawa’s protégé and their relationship isn’t beautiful.”

“Kageyama  _ is not _ my protégé.” Oikawa snapped.

“But he has potential and you taught him.” Ushijima said blankly. Those were the requirements Bokuto had said, and they fit Oikawa and Kageyama perfectly. Except the beautiful relationship part. 

“I  _ did not. _ ”

“He needed help with Hinata, so he went to ask you.” Daichi added.

“So?” Oikawa sputtered. “Its not like I helped him.”

Daichi quirked an eyebrow. “Yet he came back with a solution.”

“Okay, it’s not like I  _ wanted  _ to help him.”

“But you did.” Kuroo finished. 

Silence. Oikawa opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened. Closed. Ushijima wondered if the setter had short-circuited. 

“Weren’t we talking about the toaster?” He finally said.

“Right,” Daichi nodded then paused and turned to Kuroo. “Wait, were you changing the topic?”

“What?” Kuroo asked, blinking innocently at him.

“You changed the topic to avoid the Toaster Incident, didn’t you?” Daichi’s eyes narrowed. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m perfectly innocent.”

“Well, congrats Kuroo.” Daichi smiled and it reminded Ushijima of a monster from a children’s story book. “You get to clean the kitchen all by yourself.”

“Wait, what that isn’t fair.” Kuroo groaned. “Bokuto isn’t innocent at all!”

“Bro!” Bokuto exclaimed. “Really?!”

“and its not like Oikawa stopped us either – neither did Ushijima!”

“Hey, lay off man!”

“I did nothing wrong.”

“Why am I the only one getting punished?!”

“Because you tried to change the topic and avoid it altogether. Besides, its not  _ punishment _ . You’re just cleaning up your own mess.”

“Daichi ~” Kuroo threw himself over the shorter man, arms wrapped around Daichi’s shoulders. “Don’t do this to me!”

“I’m not doing anything,” Daichi shook his head. “You brought this upon yourself.”

“No, no, no! Daichi please! I can’t! I’ll do anything, I swear,  _ Daichi! _ ” Kuroo clasped his hands together, practically on his knees. 

“Oh? Anything?” Daichi said blankly. Ushijima wondered how much practice he had with this sort of thing. A lot, he figured, considering how rowdy the Karasuno members were.

_ “Anything.” _

“Good, then clean the kitchen.” Daichi patted Kuroo’s messy hair, smiled briefly and went to the living room, pulling out a book.

The minute he sat down, OIkawa started laughing.

It kinda sounded like a villain from a movie. Ushjima decided that wasn’t  _ too _ far from Oikawa.

“Oh my  _ god... _ ” The setter wheezed, clutching his stomach and bending over. “That was...so… you’re so  _ pathetic _ … I can’t…  _ breathe... _ ” He fell over in a burst of giggles again and Kuroo kicked him.

“Shut up,” He grumbled. “You should be thanking me.”

This only served to make Oikawa laugh harder until he was, quite literally, rolling on the floor. And Tendou had said when people say ‘rolling with laughter’ they don’t mean they’re actually on the ground, laughing.

Ushijima had been right about this one.

“Bro,” Kuroo turned, mouth stretched into the same grin he had when they were going to cart race. Ushijima had learned that that grin normally meant something that would make Daichi mad. “You’ll help me, right?”

“Nobody help him!” Daichi called from the living room, not bothering to look up from his book. Oikawa’s laughter came back full force.

“Sorry, bro.” Bokuto grinned, not looking sorry at all. “Boss said I can’t.”

“Screw you, Daichi!” Kuroo yelled, frowning and turning back to them. He looked at Oikawa, who was wiping tears from his face and looked away. His eyes landed on Ushijima, who’d been watching Bokuto jump over the back of the armchair to sit next to Daichi and maybe curry his favor.

“Hmm?” Ushijima asked, when he realized Kuroo was staring at him. 

“Ushijima,” Kuroo sighed, swinging an arm around his shoulder. “We’re bros, right?”

He blinked. “...yes…?”

“And bros help each other out,  _ right _ ?” Kuroo pressed.

“...yes...”

“So, help me out,  _ bro _ .” Kuroo whispered, voice so low he could barely hear him.

“Don’t help him, Ushijima!” Daichi called. Ushijima idly noted Bokuto outside on the balcony and Oikawa’s fading laughter.

“How did you even hear me?!” Kuroo exclaimed, scowling at the man. “I was  _ whispering _ , goddammit!”

“You’re not hard to read.” Daichi rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seats. “Look, the faster you finish, the faster you’ll be done!”

Kuroo scoffed. “Yeah, and if sodium chloride is salt, then salt is sodium chloride.”

Ushjijima squinted. “Salt?”

“Hah.” Oikawa sat up. “No one understands your nerdy chemistry jokes, Kuroo.”

“Kuroo,” Daichi warned just as Kuroo opened his mouth to respond. His eyes were still scanning the page and Ushjima wondered if he had extra eyes or something.

“Yeah,  _ Kuroo. _ ” OIkawa mocked, grinning. “Go clean the kitchen.”

“When I turn into Cinderella and marry some rich ass prince, I’ll make you all suffer….” Kuroo griped, but walked to the kitchen and pulled out the cleaning supplies anyway. “Daichi’s the evil stepdad, Oikawa’s the evil stepbrother, and Bokuto and Ushijima are too weak to do anything…” he huffed, starting to scrub at the soot stains. “Can’t wait to meet my fucking mice. They better be the best tailors in the fucking world….”

Oikawa clicked his tongue. “Kuroo, Kuroo, Kuroo. Cinderella is supposed to look  _ pretty _ .”

The messy haired man turned to look at him, a mixture of disbelief and sheer exasperation on his face. “See, this is why  _ you’re _ the evil - ”

A yell from Bokuto and the sound of the glass doors slamming shut interrupted him. “I can’t  _ believe _ that guy! How dare he!”

“Oh, Bokuto...” Daichi groaned, dropping his book. “Please don’t tell me you were fighting with the pigeon again.”

“Oh, he definitely was!” Kuroo exclaimed. “But you’re going to ignore it, because you only hate  _ me _ !”

“I don’t hate you.” Daichi rolled his eyes. 

“Then what is this?!” He gestured around the kitchen.

“ _ You _ were the one who stabbed the toaster, Kuroo.”

Kuroo slumped onto the counter groaning. “Still...”

“It really shouldn’t take more than ten minutes,” Daichi replied. “But if you keep complaining, it’ll take an hour. ”

“ _ Fine. _ ”

\---

The cleaning ended up taking an hour anyway, because Kuroo liked talking and apparently everyone needed to hear his commentary on the drama playing on TV.

“Ha. I  _ told  _ you she would run away! Oikawa, you owe me five hundred yen!” Kuroo crowed from the kitchen.

“She was supposed to be loyal to her father, goddammit...” Oikawa grumbled, crossing his arms and slouching.

“Why did she run away?” Ushijima asked no one in particular. “I thought she liked her father?”

“She ran away because she wanted to be with the guy...” Daichi said slowly, like he didn’t get it either. “I think.”

“Ah, no, no. It's not  _ that  _ simple.” Oikawa shook his head. “See, her father’s the mafia boss and she’s supposed to be the next leader. But she just wants to be a normal girl, so she starts dating this cop. Her father hates him and is like, ‘He’ll destroy everything I’ve built. Don’t date him!’ and he sets her up with this other guy who’s also in the mafia. And she’s torn between the two of them, cuz the mafia one is actually pretty nice and i think the cop guy is just using her.”

Ushijima blinked. There were two guys? He hadn’t noticed. “So who did she run away with?”

“The cop.” Kuroo called from the kitchen.

“What?” Daichi asked. “But isn’t he just using her?”

“ _ She _ doesn’t know that.”

“Ah...” Daichi nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

“She finds out about the cop in like, the second season and starts dating the mafia guy in the third one.” Bokuto said, stretching out on the couch and tossing his feet in Daichi’s lap.

“How do you know?” Oikawa glanced up at him from his spot on the ground. He'd sat there because, ‘there’s too much sunlight on the armchair and my skin is  _ delicate _ ’. 

It reminded Ushijima of the monsters that burned in sunlight in Tendou’s games. 

“I watched all five seasons with my mom,” Bokuto shrugged. “I think the sixth one is coming out in a couple months.”

“It takes her six seasons to choose a guy?” Daichi scoffed. “I would’ve given up and chosen the mailman.”

“Why the mailman? The firefighter in the third episode was way hotter.” Oikawa said.

Kuroo leaned his arms on the counter, peering over at the TV playing out the drama. “The guy in the cat cafe was super cute. She should’ve chosen him.”

“The mailman hasn’t lied to her though,”

Kuroo snorted. “Yeah, what’s he gonna lie about? Say there isn’t mail when she asks?”

“The firefighter saved her  _ life. _ ” Oikawa argued.

“He saved her cat…?” Ushijima said slowly because they’d watched five episodes now, and it still didn’t make sense.

“She  _ is _ the cat.” Oikawa explained. 

He blinked. “But she’s human.”

“She’s a shapeshifter.”

“How long has she been a shapeshifter?”

“Since the witch cursed her in the second episode.” Bokuto explained, then sat up straight. “The curse gets reversed in like, the fourth season and the sorcerer that does it is  _ crazy  _ pretty. Like,  _ almost  _ as half as pretty as Akaashi.”

“There was a witch?”

“Yeah, when she went to get medicine for her grandma, she met the witch.” Oikawa shrugged. “Were you not paying attention?”

Ushijima frowned. He’d gone to the kitchen to get water for five minutes. How much had he missed?

“I finished!” Kuroo yelled, throwing his arms into the air. “Finally!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that really was a horrible joke kuroo, smh. （ノд｀＠）
> 
> next chapter is probably gonna be part two to this cause its so short, so there'll be cooking !!!! which means im gonna have to search up 4567827487 recipes cuz im shit at cooking


	6. Oikawa's Petty Judgement

“Does that mean we finally get to eat now?” Bokuto asked, glancing between Daichi and Kuroo. “I didn’t get breakfast either, you know…”

“Didn’t you eat like, four packs of chips? Just now?” Oikawa quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Chips aren’t _filling_ , I need a _meal_ , Oikawa.” Bokuto protested. Ushijima personally thought four packs of family sized chips were in fact filling – he’d seen Semi live off less – but he’d also seen Bokuto consume enough food to feed a family of three.

“Then cook something,” the setter gestured towards the kitchen.

“I don’t know how to cook!” Bokuto exclaimed and turned to Daichi. “Please cook something!”

Daichi groaned, leaning back on the couch. “Why do I always have to cook?”

“Because you’re the father figure!” Oikawa supplied, grinning at the man.

“Father figure my ass,” he huffed. “You’re all just incompetent.”

Kuroo gasped loudly in the kitchen. “Daichi just cursed!” He whipped out his phone and started tapping away. “I have to tell the mom!”

“Who’s the mom…?” Daichi asked slowly, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Suga-chan of course!” Kuroo grinned, then paused and looked up from his phone. “Ah, I don’t have his number… Oikawa, do you?”

“Eh? Why would I have Refreshing-kun’s number?”

“Fine. Then I’ll get it.”

What happened next felt like a scene from Tendou’s mangas. Specifically, the one with superheroes and magic.

Kuroo grabbed onto the counter separating the living room and kitchen, knocked over three bottles and pulled himself up, before vaulting across to the couch and landing gracefully next to Bokuto; who didn’t even flinch.

“What the fuck was that?!” Oikawa yelled, scrambling away form the couch. “I swear to god, you are a fucking _cat_ , aren’t you?!”

“Ah,” Ushijima said, thinking back to the drama they’d been watching. “He could be like the girl from the show. Half cat, half human.”

Kuroo smirked. “Oh ho ho? Jealous of my incredible skills?” he turned to Daichi. “You have Suga-chan’s number, right?”

“I don’t think that should qualify as a skill…” Daichi muttered. “And no, I’m not giving you his number.”

Kuroo huffed.

Oikawa snapped his fingers. “ _Or –_ ”

“Here comes the alien theory…” Kuroo groaned.

“You’re the result of human experimentation by underground aliens!” Oikawa gasped, as if he’d just found the perfect strategy to defeat Shirotorizawa in a match, which was impossible. Shirotorizawa was undefeatable. “That’s why you’re so hellbent on proving aliens don’t exist, because then your identity will be revealed!”

“Pfft.” Kuroo snorted. “No, you’re just an idiot.”

“Ehhh! Daichi, Kuroo called me an idiot~” Oikawa whined, looking up at Daichi with a rather pathetic face.

“What do you want me do about it?” Daichi huffed, smacking Kuroo’s feet away from him. Ushijima had noticed in the five days spent living together that Kuroo was always sprawled out, wherever he was. Sitting on the couch; sprawled out and taking up all the space. Sitting in a chair; sprawled out with his limbs half-off the chair. Standing next to someone; sprawled out and practically leaning on them for support. Even his hair seemed to be taking up as much space as possible.

Ushijima figured it must be because he was half-cat.

“Daichi, I’m going to die of starvation…” Bokuto groaned, slumping forward onto Kuroo’s shoulders.

“You’re not going to die, Bokuto.” Daichi sighed. “Can nobody else here cook?”

Oikawa scoffed. “And risk my perfect setter hands? I think not.” Kuroo threw a cushion at him and Oikawa barely dodged it. “Ha, you can’t defeat my incredible reflex–” This time the cushion hit his face.

“Kuroo, don’t throw things at Oikawa.” Daichi groaned, exasperated when it was only – Ushijima glanced at the clock – one in the afternoon. He supposed it was a bit unfair to assume the Karasuno captain had limitless patience, but after seeing how the rest of the team behaved, it was hard to imagine otherwise.

“Why do you always scold me?!” Kuroo huffed, leaning away from Daichi and onto Bokuto. “You never scold Oikawa and he always makes fun of me.”

“Oikawa don’t make fun of Kuroo.”

“But he’s mean to me!”

“Kuroo don’t be mean to Oikawa.”

“But he’s an idiot, what am I supposed to do?”

Daichi rolled his eyes. “So, nobody else here can cook?”

“I can cook.” Ushijima said.

Instantly, Daichi seemed to energize, sitting up and leaning forward. “Really? Why didn’t you say so before?”

“You all talk too fast.” He said bluntly. The conversation seemed to move from one topic to another in a matter of seconds. They’d been talking about Daichi was the dad – which still didn’t make sense – and then Kuroo was jumping over the counter and Oikawa was yelling about aliens – which also didn’t make sense.

“Ah, sorry.” Daichi apologized.

“Hmph. I wouldn’t eat anything Ushiwaka made.” Oikawa glared at him.

Ushijima tilted his head. “Why?”

“What if you tried to poison me?”

“Why would I try to poison you?”

“Because I’m your rival and you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Oikawa,” Daichi cut in. “Then you can make your own food.”

The setter tsked, ignoring him, and crossed his arms. “I bet you don’t even cook that great.”

Ushijima huffed. “I am an excellent cook.”

“Says who?”

His eyes narrowed. Oikawa really was annoying. “I’ll prove it.”

“Hah. You can try.”

Ushijima thought he finally understood why Kuroo and Oikawa were always bickering. Oikawa was _really_ annoying.

\---

“I mean, it’s kinda bland. No flavor, no spice, I can’t taste anything.” Oikawa shrugged, pushing the bowl away from him.

“Maybe,” Kuroo drawled, resting his head on palm and rolling his eyes. “You can’t taste anything because you burned your tongue trying to eat the last one, which was ‘too spicy’ and ‘inedible’.

“Maybe,” Oikawa mocked. “It’s because Ushiwaka is horrible cook and refuses to admit it.”

“I am an _excellent_ cook.” Ushijima repeated for what was probably the eighth time in the past hour. He snatched up the rejected bowl and set with the others on the other side of the kitchen – it was the third attempt, going on four.

“You know what your problem really is, Ushijima?” Daichi started. “You put too much stock into what Oikawa says. Give it to me, Bokuto or Kuroo and let one of us try.”

“No.” Ushijima replied, eyes skimming over the ingredients again. He’d made this specifically because Oikawa had said he couldn’t and had to search up a recipe for it too. The recipe had been memorized by now.

“Why not…?” Bokuto groaned, thumping his head against the counter weakly.

“Oikawa said he thought I can’t cook well, so I must prove to him I can.”

“You can’t!” Oikawa called just as he started chopping vegetables.

Ushijima ignored him. “You can try once Oikawa admits I’m a good cook.”

“Oikawa, say he’s a good cook.” Daichi said.

_Set the noodles to boil._

“He’s not though! I’m not gonna _lie,_ Daichi. What kinda dad are you? Teaching kids to lie.”

_Tomatoes. Where were the tomatoes?_

“You’re hardly a kid, Oikawa. And I’m not teaching you to lie, Ushijima is a _wonderful_ cook.”

_Ah ha. Dice, then mix with the other vegetables._

“How would you know? You haven’t eaten anything.”

_Cut the chicken._

“And it’s so unfair.” Bokuto cut in. “Please make me something Ushijima, I’m going to die of starvation.”

“I will. Once Oikawa admits I’m a good cook.” Ushijima replied, swiftly slicing the meat.

“Which I won’t, because you’re not.”

“You know, Bokuto won’t be the only one dying today.” Kuroo groaned.

_Chicken was done. Now seasoning…_

“Nobody is dying,” Daichi said firmly. “Because Oikawa is going to say that Ushijima is a good cook – because he _is_ – and then we’ll get to eat.”

_Were there four spices or three?_

“For the last time, Daichi. I’m not going to lie!”

_No, there were three._

“You lie all the time. What’s the difference?” Kuroo said and Ushijima could practically the see the smirk on his face. He knew what Kuroo was going to say next.

“I do _not_. Why, I’m a perfect angel!”

“You lie about aliens being real all the time.”

Dishes clinked as Oikawa slammed his hand down on the counter and Daichi muttered something under his breath. Kuroo laughed.

_Ah, that was too much. Oikawa would definitely notice that._

Bokuto padded up to him, watching Ushijima strain the noodles. “Okay, can I get some snacks then?” He whispered.

“No.” _Fry the chicken._

Bokuto grumbled, glancing back to where Kuroo and Oikawa were yelling – again.

“For the last time, _aliens do not exist_.”

“You’re just blinded by government propaganda to lure us into a false sense of safety. I pity you.”

“Can I _please_ get a snack?” he asked again.

Ushijima plated the noodles, easily tuning out the screams in the background and focusing on making the dish look perfect.

“Ushijima. I’ll do your chores for a week. _Please!_ ” Bokuto whined, grabbing his arm and shaking him.

“Once –”

“Oikawa has deemed it worthy; we’ll get some too, yeah I know, but Oikawa’s _never_ going to agree so please, please, please, please, please let me get a snack.”

Ushijima waited until Bokuto stopped shaking him to set the vegetables onto the plate. He flipped the chicken over and waited as it fried, oil popping.

“Oikawa will agree.”

Bokuto groaned. “ _Please._ ”

“If I hear _one_ more word about aliens today,” Daichi said loudly. “I swear to god, Bokuto and Ushijima won’t have any chores to do for the next week.”

“I’ll be good, but I can’t promise about Kuroo – if he brings up aliens then I have to defend my side.” Oikawa shrugged, as if he physically couldn’t resist from arguing.

Ushijima finally plated the chicken as Bokuto watched, golden eyes fixated on the meat.

“You really don’t have to argue with him.”

“Uh, excuse me.” Kuroo interjected. “Can we stop talking like I’m not here?”

“Yes, I do! It’s about my honor and pride!” Oikawa continued, ignoring Kuroo.

“Ah,” Daichi grinned just as Ushijima set the plate down, Bokuto hovering over his shoulder. “I thought your honor and pride didn’t survive Karasuno’s victory?”

“Oooooooooh!!!” Bokuto and Kuroo yelled simultaneously as Oikawa reeled from the words. Ushijima tried not to think about it – Karasuno beat Shirotorizawa purely by chance – and focused on making sure the chopsticks were perfectly aligned.

“Just wait, Seijoh will beat Karasuno this year.” Oikawa glared at Daichi.

“And Shirotorizawa will beat Aoba Johsai.” Ushijima continued, glaring back when Oikawa turned his gaze to him.

“No, they won’t.”

“Yeah, because Karasuno will beat them first.”

“Okay, look.” Kuroo cut in. “I’m fucking hungry, and I don’t have time to watch your desperate little power play. So, what’s gonna happen is Oikawa –” he looked pointedly at the setter. “Is gonna eat Ushijima’s food and he’s gonna say its fan-fucking-tastic and then I’ll get to eat. _Okay?_ ”

Despite the similar tone, Kuroo’s words didn’t have nearly as much effect as Daichi’s normally did.

“Mm.” Oikawa hummed, as if he was giving Kuroo’s instructions some thought. “How ‘bout – no.”

“Can you just listen to me for once?!” Kuroo exclaimed, looking ready to punch Oikawa.

“You’re not my dad!” He replied, going as far as to stick his tongue out.

Kuroo groaned. “What the hell… Daichi tell him to listen to me.”

“Oikawa, just eat your goddamn food.” Daichi sighed.

“Okay!” Oikawa grinned, as if bothering Kuroo to the brink of insanity was a favorite pastime of his.

Ushijima straightened, crossing his arms over his chest as the setter picked up the chopsticks. He took a bite and chewed slowly.

For the first time in the week they’d lived there, the apartment was silent, everyone’s gaze focused on Oikawa.

He’d say it was good. Of course he would. Ushijima had made the dish _perfectly_ – there might be a little too much chili sauce, actually – but it was delicious. Oikawa would say it was good. He had to.

Somewhere behind him, Bokuto started tapping his fingers against the counter.

Oikawa set down the chopsticks, cleared his throat and said. “Presentation was bad.”

Kuroo groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol i almost feel bad for them  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> almost ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> also, this fic got 500+ hits?!?!?! thank you so much?!?! ＼（Ｔ∇Ｔ）／  
> im in shock  
> please leave kudos or comments if you liked it! (its super motivating)
> 
> tune in next time for:  
> College Starts This Week, Thank God and It Can't Possibly Be Worse Than Living With Four Morons


	7. Seeking Chaos and Unread Messages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ..............hi  
> i don't have a valid excuse so take this 7k monster chapter as an apology
> 
> also, i have not been to college. i have no idea how college works

Daichi was fairly confident that this was the #1 Worst Experience in his life.

The fact that Karasuno’s falling apart _didn’t_ hold the position was ridiculous enough, but what was _more_ ridiculous was that Bokuto _still couldn’t find his shoes._ Even though Daichi had told him _three_ _times_ now.

“Daichi!” Bokuto yelled from the genkan. “They’re not here!”

“Bokuto, if I come over there and I find them,” Daichi warned, but dropped his bag and went to look anyway.

“Well, they’re not here,” Bokuto huffed, crossing his arms and looking like a toddler told no to ice cream.

Daichi opened the shoe closet – most of which Oikawa had occupied – and _right there_ on the _middle rack_ were Bokuto’s shoes. The ones he’d spent _all damn morning_ searching for.

Bokuto brightened upon seeing the shoes. “Oh! You never said to look in there.”

“Right…” Daichi rolled his eyes and returned to his bag, only half packed with books. Ushijima was in the kitchen, as he had been since Daichi woke up. Both he and Bokuto seemed to wake at ungodly hours of the morning, long before anyone could possibly function and neither of them ever looked tired.

It reminded him of Hinata and Kageyama.

It also reminded him of Asahi, who liked to sleep in.

“Are Oikawa and Kuroo still asleep?” He asked to no one in particular.

“I know Kuroo is!” Bokuto called.

Daichi sighed. Of course.

He left his bag again, walking down the hallway and knocking on Oikawa’s door first. There was no response, so he knocked again. “Oikawa?”

“Yeah?” the reply came, but not from the room. He turned around just as the bathroom door opened, revealing Oikawa in a blue bathrobe, hairband and clips holding his hair back as he rubbed lotion onto his face.

“At least you’re awake…” Daichi muttered under his breath then said, “Don’t you have class at 10?”

“Uh, yeah.” Oikawa nodded, still rubbing his face.

“You know, its 9:30, right?”

“Yeah…”

“You know it takes twenty minutes to get the university from here, _right_?”

“Oh.” Oikawa paused, thinking. Then his eyes widened. “Oh!”

Daichi sighed, ignoring Oikawa’s protests of ‘why didn’t you tell me before?!’ and ‘how can I get ready in ten minutes?!’ and moved onto Kuroo’s room.

He knocked three times and waited, counting to ten before entering. It was pretty gracious considering there was a zero percent chance Kuroo could possibly be awake.

“Why are you like this…” Daichi muttered, staring at the man still sleeping soundly on the bed. He walked closer, crouching next the bed and gently shaking Kuroo. He didn’t so much as flinch.

Again, but harder.

Nothing.

Again.

Still nothing.

Daichi wondered if dumping a bucket of water over him would be justified. Probably not. Instead, he straightened and turned slightly to the door then said, “Bokuto, bring your trombone.”

Instantly, Kuroo shot up and scrambled to the other side of the bed, eyes wide open. “I’m awake!”

“Glad to see it.” Daichi said dryly. Kuroo sighed, relaxing when he realized Bokuto wouldn’t be coming in with trombone. Then he slumped back onto the bed, pulling the blankets over him.

“Let me sleep a little, Daichi…”

“No.”

“Just five more minutes….” Kuroo pleaded, eyes already slipping shut.

“Nope.” Daichi yanked the covers back and he hissed. “Get up.”

“No, Daichi please…”

Daichi ignored him, moving to the windows, and pulling the blinds open. Kuroo screeched, as if the sunshine was physically hurting him. “Why did you take morning classes if you don’t plan on waking up in the morning?”

Kuroo mumbled something incoherent, his head buried in his pillow.

“What?”

Kuroo sighed, lifting his head up and peering at Daichi with squinted eyes, “What time is it?”

“9:30.”

“My class is at 11~,” he curled the pillow over his head again and rolled over. Daichi sighed. He just might have to bring out the trombone.

“Kuroo. Get up. You can sleep after your classes.”

Silence. Then he slowly turned around, glaring at Daichi from under the pillow. “You’re not gonna let me sleep. Are you?”

“No.”

With several grumbled curses and reluctance that rivaled Tanaka’s reaction to homework, Kuroo slowly pulled himself off his bed. “I hate you so much…”

“Wonderful.” Daichi replied, walking to the door and stepping outside. He turned, hand resting on the doorknob. “If you go back to sleep, I will know.”

“Okay, okay…” Kuroo sighed, and Daichi turned to walk away. “Wait, close the door – oh, come on.”

He left the door open, much to Kuroo’s annoyance and started down the hallway, only to stop again when Oikawa threw open his door.

“Daichi!” the setter held up two outfits, waving them in Daichi’s face. “Choose one!”

He blinked. “What?”

“I can’t decide what to wear, so choose for me.” Oikawa explained as if it was obvious. It wasn’t.

“Uh…” He glanced between the two. One was a shirt and jacket with jeans, and the other was a sweatshirt and black pants. Was this a trick question? “…that one…” he hesitantly pointed at the sweatshirt combo.

“Hmm…” Oikawa hummed, peered closely at the outfits and then tossed Daichi’s pick back into his room. “Great, then I’ll wear this one!” he held up the other one proudly.

Daichi huffed, crossing his arms. “If you already knew which one you were going to wear, then why did you ask?”

“I needed to see which one you’d wear, so I wouldn’t wear that one!” Oikawa grinned. “Wouldn’t wanna dress like you _, Dad_ ~.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes and trying not to be offended. He dressed perfectly fine, thank you very much. “You only have six minutes left, if you plan on getting to class on time.”

“Ah!” Oikawa swiveled around, shutting the door behind him and Daichi continued, perfectly not offended whatsoever.

In the living room, Ushijima was watering the plants by the TV. There had only been one when they first moved in, but the spiker had gotten two more in the span of the week before school started, so now they had – five.

Daichi squinted. There were five plants. Only yesterday, there’d been three… but now there were five, which didn’t make sense because he didn’t remember those at all. Was he counting wrong? No, there were five, so…?

Ushijima stood up and turned, eyes landing on Daichi who was still contemplating his ability to count.

“Is something wrong?” Ushijima asked.

“Hm?” he started, then smiled, waving off Ushijima’s concern. “Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry.”

Maybe Ushijima moved the plants around. Yeah, that was probably it.

His attention turned to Bokuto, who was calmly sitting on the couch, drinking orange juice, and watching TV.

“Bokuto.” Daichi said.

“Hm?” Bokuto replied, but his eyes didn’t stray from the TV, where a brightly colored anime was playing.

“You have class at ten, too.”

“I know.” On the screen, someone went running past.

“It takes twenty minutes to reach from here.”

Bokuto shrugged. “I run fast.”

Daichi rubbed his forehead. He didn’t doubt Bokuto could run fast, but he _did_ doubt other people would appreciate him sprinting down the sidewalk. His eyes jumped back to the anime, where someone was spiking a volleyball over the net.

An anime about volleyball.

Sure, volleyball was fun – to _play­._ But who would watch an anime about other people playing volleyball?

He rolled his eyes, picking up his bag from the armchair again and shoving in the last of his books just as his phone buzzed.

9:35 am

From: Suga

>>Daichi!!!!!!!

>>first day of college!!!!!!

>>for u anyway

The corners of his mouth tilted up in smile.

9:36 am

>>u only have two more days

>>what no good morning???

>>ಠ╭╮ಠ

>>good morning

>>happy?

>>very

>> r u ready for college?

>>yes

>>more than ready

>>ehhhhhhhh

>>not nervous?????

>> nothing can be worse than living with these guys

>>so responsible

>>taking care of all your roommates

>>Captain forever

>> i wish they’d take care of themselves

>> me too

>> then u’d have more time for me!!!!

>>（＾ω＾）

>>i always have time for you

Daichi waited for the three dots to appear, for Suga to tease him about being incredibly busy or laugh at him for having taken on the responsibility like he always did, but nothing happened.

Instead, Oikawa came running down the hallway and nearly tripped over himself as he scrambled to the door.

“I hate morning classes…” The setter mumbled as he pulled on his shoes. He stooped down to tie his laces and glanced up at Daichi, frowning. “Why can’t we just take the bus or something?”

“Too close for the bus, too far for walking. So, you gotta run.” Bokuto answered instead, setting his empty glass in the sink and joining Oikawa in the genkan. “Let’s go!”

“It’s nine in the morning,” Oikawa grumbled and Daichi heard the door unlock. “Don’t sound so excited…”

“It’s _already_ nine –,” the rest of Bokuto’s words were muffled as the door shut behind him.

“I’ll be leaving then,” Ushijima said and Daichi only slightly faltered under his intense gaze. The spiker always seemed so intense, even when he wasn’t doing anything volleyball related.

Daichi nodded, not quite sure what to say, and watched as Ushijima nodded in response and then turned and said goodbye to the plants sitting on the counter.

Hm.

Well, his life was full of weird things. Daichi would just add this to the list.

He glanced down to his phone again, but Suga hadn’t replied, so he bit the inside of his cheek and tucked it away.

“Oi, Kuroo.” Daichi called as the front door clicked shut quietly. “Your class is _today,_ you know.”

“Yeah, yeah…” The man in question opened his door, sighing and trudging out at a painfully slow pace.

“Let’s go,” Daichi picked up his bag and watched as Kuroo did the same – only more reluctantly – and noted the guy hadn’t even bothered to comb his hair.

Not that it would have made a difference anyway.

He pulled his shoes on in the genkan and waited by the door as Kuroo took three whole minutes to look through the shoe closet and ultimately decide that his shoes weren’t even in the closet. Another two minutes spent as Kuroo slowly pulled on his shoes and Daichi tried to resist the urge to bang his head on the wall.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“About time…” Daichi muttered and opened the door. He paused outside, only to see Kuroo still standing in the genkan, with no indication of moving.

Daichi snapped.

He went back inside, grabbed Kuroo’s hand and dragged him out as he whined.

“You need to learn to hurry up…” He sighed, locking the door, and turning to the stairs.

“I didn’t even get to eat,” Kuroo grumbled, but matched his pace anyway.

“You wanna eat? Wake up earlier.” Daichi replied as they started down the steps.

“But waking up is so painful…”

“Well, so is not eating.” Daichi shrugged. “Take your pick.”

“You’re cruel…”

“So I’ve heard…” They reached the first floor, pausing briefly on the front steps of the apartment building.

“Hey, Daichi.” Kuroo paused, squinting at the buildings around them and pointing at something. “Is that the Tokyo Tower.”

Daichi sighed.

\---

“– and you will not _believe_ what he said next!” Oikawa huffed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “He asked if we had any _homework_! On the first day! Who the fuck does that?!”

“People like him, apparently.” Daichi replied monotonously. Oikawa had been ranting about the guy in his first period class since the moment they met up, and at this rate Daichi was looking forward to math.

“And then we got homework! All because of that bastard who can’t keep his fucking mouth shut!”

“Calm down, Oikawa.”

“Calm down?! You’re not the one who has to an entire 2,000 word essay on astrophysics!”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “I thought you liked astrophysics?”

“W-well, _yeah._ ” Oikawa sputtered. “But that doesn’t mean I want to write an _essay_ on it!”

“You’re the one who chose the class.” Daichi shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. They had come to this specific café for lunch because it wasn’t too far from the university, and Oikawa claimed the ‘aesthetic’ was good for his soul.

Daichi wasn’t sure he even _had_ a soul.

But he’d agreed nonetheless because they had coffee and that’s all he needed anyway.

“Dai-chan! You’re supposed to hate on him with me!” Oikawa whined, slumping against the table.

Another shrug. “You should have gone to Kuroo instead if you wanted a gossip partner.”

“Enhhh…” Oikawa squinted at him. “How does Refreshing-kun deal with you?”

Daichi coughed, nearly choking on his drink. “ _I’m_ the one who deals with _him_.”

“So, like, how I deal with Iwa-chan?”

“No, like how _Iwaizumi_ deals with _you_.”

“But Refreshing-kun is much nicer than me!”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he’s nice. When he’s not encouraging the first years to do stupid things.”

“Stupid things like?”

“Like getting the entire team to dress up in Halloween costumes – including Tsukishima – ten minutes before practice. I still have no idea how he did that.”

“That’s not stupid.”

“It’s stupid to do it on the day the principal is coming around.”

“Ah, that _is_ stupid.”

“That’s not even the worst,” Daichi scoffed, thinking of all the times he’d had to save Suga from narrowly ending up in the principal’s office. “Once, he teamed up with the girls’ volleyball team and they all wore cat headbands to school – I think it was in protest of something.”

Oikawa gasped. “Refreshing-kun would look so _cute_ in cat ears!”

“He got in so much trouble for that…” he sighed.

“But he looked cute, didn’t he?”

“Well, I mean…” Daichi shrugged, wondering if this was this was a trick question too. “Yeah…?”

“What do you mean ‘ _yeah_ …?’ It’s a yes or no question!”

“Uh.”

“Yes. Or. No.”

“…yes…”

Oikawa scowled. “Are you nervous?”

“What? No.”

“Then answer the question properly, _Dai-chan._ ”

 _So, this is what Ushijima always feels like…._ Daichi thought, wincing under Oikawa’s gaze, then cleared his throat and said, “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Oikawa hummed, dropping his lethal gaze, and propping his head up on his hand. “So, got any pictures?”

“Ah, I do actually.” He pulled out his phone and unlocked it, his eyes skimming over notifications.

 _You have 3 new messages from_ Suga

Daichi bit the inside of his cheek.

He’d check it. Later.

\---

For once, the apartment was silent when Daichi unlocked the door. He pushed it open with his shoulder and entered, disregarding the owl sticker as usual, and took off his shoes.

It was well into the afternoon, and Oikawa, Bokuto, and Ushijima all had volleyball practice. Kuroo was off at lab – why on the first day, Daichi didn’t know, but he _did_ know he had the entire apartment to himself.

Finally, some quiet.

He paused in the kitchen to grab one of the few packets of chips left and then dropped his bag in his room. There wasn’t any homework, but he did have unfinished classwork so he might as well finish that before the others got back.

Pulling out the papers and setting them on his desk, he started working on calculus questions with his mind still wondering about unanswered texts.

He hadn’t let himself check his phone all day, simply because… well, he didn’t really know why. It wasn’t like Suga would suddenly decide Daichi wasn’t worth his time or reply harshly. He hadn’t even said anything worth taking the wrong way! Had he…?

“Stop overreacting…” Daichi mumbled to himself, running fingers through his hair and sighing. He hadn’t let himself check his phone because he’d been too busy figuring out where all his classes were, introducing himself to his teachers and listening to Oikawa complain all of lunch. That was why he hadn’t checked. That was it.

It definitely wasn’t because Suga always _, always_ replied immediately to his texts and never left in the middle of a conversation without saying why. It wasn’t because Suga had woken up at three am to console Daichi about losing when they were second years, it wasn’t because Daichi had only realized how much he leaned on his vice-captain after leaving, and it absolutely, positively, _wasn’t_ because Suga was his best friend and Daichi cared about him more than anyone else.

He’d been busy with his classes, so he hadn’t checked his phone, that was the only reason. He swore it was.

“…fuck this…” he muttered and picked his phone up from the edge of the desk. Unlocking it, he opened his messages and stared down at the little 3 next to Suga’s name.

9:45 am

From: Suga

>>Daichi!!!! (≧▽≦)

>>so kind

>>sorry my roommate broke something

Daichi sighed in relief, relaxing in his chair and immediately thinking himself ridiculous for it. What would he have said? That he hated Daichi and never wanted to talk to him again? Ridiculous.

Daichi tapped out a quick, ‘its fine,’ and set his phone back, face down, on the desk again, then returned to calculus.

He only got through two more questions – both of which were probably wrong – before he got distracted, this time with Karasuno.

 _They probably have practice right now,_ Daichi thought, pencil tapping against the desk. _I could call for maybe ten minutes. I haven’t even seen the new players…_

“Or I could just focus on my goddamn work for ten minutes,” He grumbled, starting on another question.

Barely halfway through, his feet started tapping and his focus wavered. Leaning back in his chair, he stared up at the ceiling, wondering when he’d gotten so bad at studying.

Even back home, the Sawamura household had always been noisy, with his younger brother constantly forgetting his homework and his younger sister blasting pop music from her room. His mother had always been on the phone with someone, talking and debating the latest neighborhood gossip and his father liked playing the news and then leaving the room entirely, but forbidding anyone from turning it off because ‘ _I’m listening!_ ’

School had never been quiet either, since his classmates enjoyed talking nonstop, even when the teacher was in the room. The volleyball club – once empty and mostly ignored – had started getting louder when Tanaka and Nishinoya joined and had got even louder with Hinata and Kageyama.

And here, in Tokyo, far away from Miyagi and his entire life, it was loud. Oikawa and Kuroo’s fights, Bokuto’s trombone and Ushijima’s intense everything, filled up the entire apartment.

Daichi sighed, eyes locking on his phone. If he wanted noise, Karasuno was easily the fastest way to get it.

“Pathetic,” he muttered, but unlocked his phone and called Ennoshita anyway. The new captain had always kept his phone close to him.

The phone picked up on the fourth ring – not that Daichi was counting – and the first thing he heard was shouting.

Daichi snorted. Typical.

“Hello? Daichi?” Ennoshita asked a moment later. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to check in. How’s being captain?”

“Ah, it’s great,” he said and Daichi was pretty sure he heard pride in his voice. He grinned. “The first years are still pretty nervous though.”

Daichi chuckled. “First years normally are, except for last year. They were just competitive.”

“Honestly, that would be better. Every time Yachi asks for anything, they trip over themselves to get it for her. And Kageyama and Tsukishima –” Ennoshita groaned. “The first years look at them like they’re gods but are too scared to talk to them.”

“At least Hinata and Yamaguchi are there.”

“Those two are the only sane ones, well, no. Yamaguchi is the only sane here, the other three are too much.”

“Oh? Aren’t the other third years helping?”

“Yeah, Kinnoshita and Narita are, but I think all the ‘senpai’ is getting to Tanaka and Noya’s heads. Yesterday, they bought the whole team meat buns from Sakanoshita, like you used to do, and when the first years thanked them, _they cried_. I’m not kidding, I have pictures.”

Daichi laughed, “I believe you. They would cry for less.”

“Not to mention the stunts they pull off. If Noya breaks his skull open one of these days, it’ll be Tanaka’s fault.”

“Just wait until Inter-High, then you’ll really be in over your head trying to keep him from starting fights.”

That startled a laugh out of Ennoshita. “Like he hasn’t already, there was a –”

The sound of yelling on the other side interrupted him and a voice – Tanaka, Daichi decided – called out teasingly, “Captain, who you talking to? Got a secret _girlfriend_?”

“What, no. Its –” Ennoshita was interrupted again and the sound of shuffling, as Tanaka probably took the phone from its owner, made Daichi grin.

“Hello~”

“Ah, Tanaka.”

“Daichi – san!” Tanaka exclaimed loud enough that he had to move his phone away from his ear. “How’s Tokyo?”

“Tokyo’s great,” Daichi replied, spinning around in his chair until he faced the window. He could see the edge of the balcony from here, and a small bird which he easily identified as Hatō the Pigeon sat on the railing. “Too many pigeons though…” he muttered.

“Eh? Aren’t pigeons everywhere?”

“Never mind, how’s the new team?”

“Oh yeah! The first years are super – hold on, lemme just –” the phone beeped and the call cut. Daichi blinked at the screen for a moment before another call came in – a video call. He swiped accept and Tanaka’s grin filled the screen.

“Daichi – san!” He greeted and Daichi could see Hinata’s orange head peeking over his shoulder. “This is much better, now I wanted to show you –”

“Ah, Daichi-san! You wanna see something cool?!” Hinata jumped up and grabbed the phone from Tanaka who called out in protest. “I can jump even higher now, almost as high as Kageyama!”

“Hinata-boke! No, you can’t!” A voice – definitely Kageyama’s – yelled from off screen.

“Yes, I can! I’ll prove it!” Hinata shot back and the camera shook as he moved around. A moment later, Hinata backed away from the phone and Kageyama’s face came into view.

“Sawamura-san,” Kageyama nodded, moving the camera towards him. Then Hinata yelled something at him and he moved it back so Daichi could see the basketball board they’d used to measure jumping heights last year.

Just as Hinata started running, Kageyama turned the camera around again. “I wanted to ask –” the thump of Hinata’s landing and then yelling “Bakeyama! What was that for?!”

“Shut up, dumbass.”

“I’m not the dumbass! You are!” The camera shook as Hinata and Kageyama started fighting, the phone still in Kageyama’s hand, until all he could see was blurs of color.

“No, you!”

“You!”

“I don’t mess up all my serves!”

“I’m nicer!”

“I –”

“No, you’re both idiots,” Tsukishima’s voice cut in and the camera stabilized. A laugh that was undeniably Yamaguchi’s followed.

Daichi rolled his eyes.

Hinata, having successfully untangled himself from Kageyama, glared and lunged for the camera only to trip over his own feet.

Tsukishima laughed. “For all the jumping practice you do, you’re not very good at it.”

“Ow…!” the orange haired boy mumbled, rubbing his forehead.

Then the camera turned, and Yamaguchi came into view. “Daichi-san!”

“Yamaguchi,” Daichi smiled, relieved to finally be talking to someone more…well, ‘ _sane’_ was one way to put it. “Thank god, someone less chaotic.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes widened, as if remembering something. “They’re better than last year. You know, last week, Kageyama and Tsukki had a _polite_ conversation that lasted forty-five seconds! New record.”

“Really?” Daichi asked, more than a little shocked. Last year, Kageyama and Tsukishima could barely look at each without glaring.

“Yeah!” The boy nodded vigorously, green bangs falling in his face. “I mean, they fought for the rest of the day because of it – but still!”

“Thank god,” Daichi hummed. “I think I’d be more concerned if they didn’t.”

“Coach made them do extra laps because of it, and then Hinata – ” Yamaguchi paused, eyes focusing on someone or something off screen, then doubled over laughing. “N-nice one, Tsukki!” He managed between breaths and the camera shook.

Daichi sighed, but the smile didn’t leave his face. Either the team was just as chaotic as it had been last year, or the simple act of him calling had set them all off.

No wonder the first years were nervous.

A minute passed before the camera finally stopped shaking, having passed into the hands of the new manager.

“Yachi,” Daichi greeted, brightening upon seeing the blonde girl.

“Daichi-san, it’s great to see you again! The team was super hyped up today when I got here, I figured something had happened.”

“Ah, so it _is_ because I called…” He mumbled. “Well, anyway, how’s the new team?”

“Some of the first years are really good, but I’m not a very good judge since I don’t even play. They seem really nervous though, especially around me…” Yachi’s eyes widened and she leaned into the camera. “Wait, do you think they’re scared of me?! Maybe they don’t like having people watch them when they play and since I’m just a manager and I don’t even know how to play, I’m making them uncomfortable…” the girl’s words faded into incoherent mumbles.

“Yachi, no one is afraid of you. And if they can’t play in front of people, how can they play during Inter High? You know, where many people come to watch – and I don’t think everyone there plays volleyball either. You’re a manager, its great if you play, but not playing isn’t going make anyone _uncomfortable_. Calm down.”

“But what if it _does_?!” Yachi mumbled, eyes darting to where the first years probably were. “And what if they hate me for it? One of them is really tall too, he kinda looks like Asahi-san, but scarier and yesterday I heard him yelling – ohmygodwhatifhehatesmeand–”

“Yacchan!” Noya yelled and bounded onto the screen. “Lemme talk to Daichi-san real quick!”

“O-okay…” Yachi nodded and handed the phone off, seemingly more stressed than before.

“Nishinoya – did you dye your hair again?” Daichi squinted at the screen.

“I did!” The boy crowed, proudly showing off the streaks of blond on either side of his head. “It’s so I can match with Rolling Thunder!”

“Did you show Asahi?” he asked.

“Yeah! He freaked out at first –” Nishinoya shrugged. “But then when he calmed down, he said it was really cool! And I think it makes Rolling Thunder even better! Like, Ultra Power Mode – Rolling Thunder!” He pumped his fist in the air and yelled – somewhere nearby Hinata shouted that it was super cool.

Daichi snorted, hiding his grin with a fist. “Really?”

“Mhm. Definitely.” He nodded seriously. “The first years think it’s awesome too, and – oh yeah! One is trying out for libero – he’s not _that_ good yet, but I think if he was less scared of running into someone then he’d be really good!”

“Oh?” he straightened, suddenly interested with how serious Nishinoya seemed. “And how is he getting over that?”

Nishnoya grinned. “I’m having him run into people!”

Daichi faltered. Of all the possible courses of action, that seemed like the _least_ effective method. “R-right, and how is that helping?” he said anyway, because _surely_ Nishinoya wasn’t making the poor boy just run headfirst into someone.

“It’s not.”

Daichi groaned, covering his face. _At least he’s honest…_

“I mean, it _would_ work, but yesterday he ran into Tsukishima – who got mad, _obviously_ – and then he ran into Coach before that, and Coach lectured him for ten minutes about running with a blindfold on.”

“You made him run with a blindfold on?!” Daichi exclaimed, staring incredulously at the boy. “How could that _possibly_ help?!”

“It’s to get _over_ his fear!”

“It’s only going to make him _more_ afraid!”

Nishinoya groaned. “Then what am I supposed to do? I’ve tried _everything_ and nothing works!”

“Everything?”

“Yeah! Blindfolds, memorizing, diving drills, good luck charms, magic potions – I even got him pork buns!”

“Okay, okay, okay…” Daichi conceded. He _really_ didn’t want to know what kind of magic potions Nishinoya had given the first year. Or where he’d gotten them. “Did you try getting him familiar with the team? If he’s used to them, then he won’t be scared of them.”

“I _did_!” Nishinoya argued. “But he’s way too scared of Kageyama and he can’t even look in Tsukishima in the eye! Especially not after what happened yesterday. I think the only people he can actually talk to are Yamaguchi – when he’s not around Tsukishima – and me.”

“Why is he scared of Kageyama?”

“On the first day, Kageyama smiled.”

“Ah…” Daichi hummed. Kageyama’s smile had the power to kill – or make people want to commit suicide. “Well, what about Hinata?”

Nishinoya wailed, shaking the phone around. “He’s scared of Hinata too! He’s _just_ like Asahi-san, but without the long hair! Yesterday, he nearly stepped on spider and _apologized_! Who does that?!”

“Nishinoya, calm down. I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“But it _is_!” He hissed, then lowered his voice, eyes glancing around the gym. “If I have to hear about how _terrifying_ ‘Kageyama-senpai’ is one more time, I will _scream_!”

“I think you’ve already done that a few times over.” Daichi muttered, then said louder, “Where’s Tanaka? He said he wanted to show me something?”

“Daichi-san, you’re supposed to help me…” Nishinoya huffed, but called out for Tanaka anyway.

“That’s where Chikara’s phone went!” Tanaka exclaimed, walking up to his friend.

Daichi raised his eyebrows at that. “First name basis?”

Immediately, the boy flushed a brilliant shade of red. “N-no, no, no! It’s not like that! We’re just friends! I swear!”

“I didn’t say anything.” Daichi reassured, but his suspicions were raised. Suga would _definitely_ be hearing about this later.

“Don’t worry, Daichi-san.” Nishinoya grinned, hooking an arm around Tanaka. “If there _was_ something going on, Ryuu would’ve told me for sure!”

“Y-yeah, for sure!” Tanaka agreed and Daichi didn’t say anything about the guilty look on his face.

“Alright, alright, you said you wanted to show me something? Before Hinata ran off with the phone?” he said instead, leaning his head on his palm.

“Oh yeah! C’mon Noya,” Tanaka grabbed the phone and started running, Nishinoya behind him. “Yacchan! Hold this for a minute?”

“Ehh? Please don’t tell me –” Yachi’s face flickered across the screen before flipping around to show the gym. “What if you break your ribs?! The ambulance will take time to get here! What if Nishinoya-san breaks his skull?! What if Hi –”

“Yacchan, it’ll be okay!” Nishinoya reassured, but Yachi’s cry of ‘But what if-?’ didn’t sound very convinced.

Daichi wasn’t either.

“You two better not still be doing those insane stunts, Tanaka. Nishinoya, you were lucky when you fell last time, but this time –”

“We’ll be _fine_ , Daichi-san!” Nishinoya waved him off and pulled Tanaka with him. “Ready, Ryuu?”

“Always!”

“Ready, Shouyou?”

“Ready, Noya-san!” Hinata cheered, running up to the two.

“Hold on, why is Hinata –” Daichi started, but was cut off when the libero jumped up onto Tanaka’s shoulders. Then he leaned down and grabbed Hinata, pulling him up. The two then – unsteadily – shifted to either side of Tanaka – very unsteadily – and leaned to the side, holding hands and tilting forward – _very_ unsteadily.

“Ta-da!” They yelled out simultaneously and Daichi took a screenshot – for future reference when he told Suga, _not_ to set as his wallpaper.

In the background, he could he hear the first years yelling. He didn’t blame them.

“Get down from there – Tanaka, you’re going to injure your back.” Daichi scolded.

“…I’m fine…” he huffed; arms hooked around the feet on his shoulders.

“Isn’t it cool, Daichi-san?” Nishinoya called out.

“It won’t be cool if the principal walks in and suspends you three.” Ennoshita yelled from nearby.

“The principal won’t come, Chikara,” he said flippantly.

“Hm. You’re right, he won’t. Not if Coach gets there first.”

At this, the three boys stiffened. Hinata jumped off first, leaving Tanaka and Nishinoya to wobble around.

“Ya! Shouyou!” Nishinoya yelled, nearly falling off before Tanaka grabbed his legs.

“Sorry, Noya-san…” Hinata apologized, not looking all that guilty.

Then Kageyama called him an idiot and Tsukishima said something about ‘The Great King’ being cranky, and chaos erupted.

Daichi snorted, watching the fighting with amusement.

“Oi! What’s going on?” The voice cut through all the yelling and Daichi felt himself stiffen even though he wasn’t guilty. Well, not entirely.

“Coach!” Tanaka exclaimed, turning to the gym doors, and literally dropped Nishinoya.

“Ah! Ryuu!” The libero wailed, rubbing his shoulder. “You betrayed me!”

“Sorry, Noya…”

“I leave for ten minutes and this is what you do?” Ukai barked, glaring at the team. Ennoshita stepped up, explaining something to the coach when the camera flipped around again to show Yachi.

“Yachi, is Coach mad?” Daichi asked, feeling slightly responsible for the chaos.

She shrugged. “Kinda. Coach told Ennoshita-san to start drills when he left, but he’s not _that_ mad.”

“Ah… Give him the phone for a minute.”

“Hm? Okay.” Yachi moved and a second later Ukai’s frown came on the screen.

“Sawamura?”

“Sorry, Coach.” Daichi smiled sheepishly. “I called and distracted the team.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Ukai raised an eyebrow at him.

Daichi winced, glancing down at his unfinished worksheets. “Well… I just wanted to see how the team was doing.”

“They’d be doing a lot better if they practiced.” He rolled his eyes, then turned to the others. “Start now at least, you’ve wasted enough time!”

A chorus of ‘ _yes, Coach!_ ’ later, Ukai returned his attention to Daichi. “How’s Tokyo treating you?”

“It’s good, even though my roommates are little… chaotic.”

Ukai cackled. “College roommates are always the worst. My roommate used to play loud music all the time, even when he was asleep or went outside.”

“I think that would be easier than this…” Daichi sighed.

“Tanaka! Watch where you’re aiming!” Ukai yelled and he could faintly hear laughter in the background.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” Ukai sighed, then straightened. “Sawamura, don’t waste your time thinking about the team. They’ll be fine, even without you to lead them.”

“I know…” Daichi said.

Ukai waited for him to continue.

“But I’m still worried about them.” Daichi argued, even though his old coach hadn’t said anything. “I mean, look at them!”

Coach Ukai turned around, watching the team. “Hinata! _Inside_ the court! Yah, Tsukishima! Leave the first years alone!”

“He’s the one that came up to _me_ ,” Tsukishima scoffed, but went back to practice anyway.

“That poor kid,” Ukai groaned.

“Which kid?” Daichi asked. He’d originally called to hear about the first years but had spent most of the time listening to everyone either complain or compliment the first years – especially from Yachi and Nishinoya, who he suspected were talking about the same person.

“This tall kid, he wants to be libero, kinda looks like Asahi. I always forget his name.”

“…I see…” Daichi nodded slowly. Was there only one first year worth talking about?!

“Anyway, stop worrying about these guys. Ennoshita’s a strong captain.” Ukai grinned. “Make sure to watch when we get to Nationals this year!”

Daichi grinned, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Study hard, Sawamura!”

“Yes, Coach.”

Ukai nodded, and the call ended a moment later.

Daichi set his phone down, sighing and letting his head thunk lightly against the table. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the worksheet he really should have finished by now.

“God, you’re so pathetic, Daichi…” he mumbled to himself, sitting up properly and attempting to solve the last few questions.

Half the worksheet later, he finally gave up and tore open the bag of chips. The light from the windows was golden now, the kind that made him feel drowsy, and the others would probably be back soon. Hatō the Pigeon was still on the balcony.

Daichi opened the window, leaning against the side and watching as Hatō turned to him, still sitting on the balcony railing.

“Want one?” He held up a chip and tossed it to the bird when it chirped – in what Daichi _assumed_ was a yes.

Hatō pecked at the food, slowly eating it as Daichi watched in boredom. “You cause a lot of trouble, you know that?”

The pigeon paused to stare at him and hooted in denial.

“What? You think you’re innocent?”

A chirp.

“You’re not, honestly _you’re_ the reason I have to deal with Bokuto and Oikawa screaming that pigeons are intelligent birds sent to spy on us and whatever.”

Hatō seemed especially offended by this, squawking and flapping his wings.

Daichi raised an eyebrow. “You say you _are_ intelligent?”

A hoot and a ruffling of his feathers.

He snorted. “I don’t believe it.”

The pigeon cawed loudly, and Daichi idly wondered if he was calling his friends for backup to take down a human.

“Trying to take me down?” He hummed, munching on more chips.

Hatō chirped and he imagined angry eyebrows on the bird.

“So yes?”

Another chirp.

Daichi nodded. Then blinked. “What am I doing?” he groaned, stepping back from the window, and started to close it. This seemed to only anger the bird more – nearby on telephone wires, Daichi could see an impressive number of pigeons that hadn’t been there before – and he rolled his eyes. “Planning on taking over the world?”

The bird hooted in response.

“I’ll be sure to tell Bokuto and Oikawa of your plans,” he said sarcastically, and tossed Hatō a handful of chips, – hopefully – enough to keep him sated until Bokuto got back. Then, he shut the window and returned to his desk.

The moment he looked at the next question, his phone started buzzing. He picked it up immediately, grateful for the distraction even though he _really_ should study.

“Daichi, I’m going to die!” the voice on the other side yelled the second he picked up.

“No, you’re not, Asahi.” Daichi replied evenly, leaning back in his seat. This was the fourteenth time Asahi had called him this week with the exact same worry – and it was still Monday. “What happened?”

“I’m going to jail.” Asahi sobbed. “Tell my mother I love her. Tell Suga I’m sorry for never returning his calls. Turn in my library books for me. Oh, and Noya. Tell Noya his hair looks very nice.”

Daichi rolled his eyes. “Anything else? Should I make a list?”

“Ah, that’d be very helpful actually. Tell my roommate I’m sorry, I can’t do the dishes tonight even though it’s my turn. And –”

“Asahi,” Daichi cut in. “What happened?”

The man on the other end took a deep breath and sounded close to tears when he spoke. “I stole something.”

Daichi raised his eyebrows at that. Asahi, a thief. “What did you steal?”

“A book!”

“How?”

“See, I went to a bookstore because I couldn’t find the book I needed in the library, and I found it in the bookstore but when I bought it and left the store – there were two books!”

“Then just go back to the store and tell them you found it in your bag?”

“But what if they accuse me of stealing it?!”

“How can they accuse you of stealing it if you go to give it back?”

“The cashier lady said I looked scary when I walked in! She’ll definitely think I stole it!”

“She said that to your face?”

“N-no, she said that to her friend…”

Daichi sighed. “Asahi, look. You’re a really nice guy. Go back to the store and return the book, nothing – _nothing_ – will happen, I promise.”

Asahi groaned, then was silent. “If I end up in jail –”

“Then I’ll bail you out, I swear.” Daichi rolled his eyes.

“Thanks, Daichi…”

“No problem.”

“… and you’ll tell Noya, right?”

“Yes, I’ll tell Nishinoya you think his hair is nice.” Daichi sighed. “And you’ll go back to the store and return the book.”

“Yes.” Asahi said confidently.

Daichi waited. There was some shuffling on the other side. He waited some more.

Asahi spoke up again. “Daichi, I can’t do it.”

Daichi sighed. “You want me to get Suga to call you? You know he won’t be nice about it.”

“N-no…” Asahi sighed. “But what if –”

“No what ifs. Just go.”

“But –”

“Asahi. _Go._ ”

The man let out a sound something like a strangled cat. “I can’t, what if they call –”

“Asahi.” Daichi interrupted again, voice firm. “You’re going to return the book. I’m going to cut the call. Text me, call me, whatever, after you _return the book_. Okay?”

“…okay…”

“Good.” Before he could back out again, Daichi cut the call. Asahi would probably take at least an hour to actually return the book.

Daichi sighed, spinning around in his chair, and looking up at the ceiling. The others would be back soon. He picked up his phone again, the time read six o’clock and he wondered how long Kuroo’s lab thing lasted.

Then he remembered that he didn’t particularly care and turned his attention back to his work.

It took half an hour to complete the calculus worksheet and check over all his answers, and by the time Daichi finished, he was more than ready to fall asleep.

Calculus had never been so boring.

Just as he stood up, he heard the front door open and Bokuto yell out in greeting. Oikawa and Ushijima were already in an argument, and he could hear Kuroo laughing at them.

By the time he opened his room door, the TV was playing, and the argument had only gotten worse.

“Dai-chan!” Oikawa exclaimed, “Tell Ushiwaka I’m right!”

“Tell Oikawa he’s wrong.” Ushijima said, crossing his arms.

“Tell them both they’re wrong, and I’m right!” Kuroo called from the couch but didn’t look away from the TV.

“You’re not even part of this conversation!” Oikawa huffed.

“I’m still right.”

“Wha – how?!”

Kuroo shrugged, smirking at the setter. “I –”

“Hatō!” Bokuto yelled, throwing open the balcony doors. “You’re _supposed_ to be on a diet! How’re you gonna get ready for our boss fight?!”

Daichi sighed. At least it was noisy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drinking game: take a shot every time Daichi sighs
> 
> Hatō the Pigeon is the best OC i ever have or ever will create. Name a better OC, ill wait  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> Next Time:  
> Godzilla and Top Ten Ways to Ruin Your Thursday


	8. Strawberry Sweets and Late-Night Movies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got stuck. decided to take a break. fell into a new fandom n had an existential crisis.
> 
> anyway
> 
> writer's block is pain  
> i couldn't write anything using the 'Next Time' so i ended up changing it. this doesn't follow 'Godzilla and Top Ten Ways to Ruin Your Thursday' cuz that got angsty fast n i can't do angst
> 
> this is also pretty short especially considering the last chapter so yeah, um sorry

Staying up late three nights in a row was not a good idea. It made you feel weird and tired and say yes to the most random things. Oikawa could prove it, because never in his right mind would he _ever_ agree to this.

But he had, and now he was suffering.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this!” The setter groaned, trailing behind Daichi as he walked through the convenience store. After the first ever trip together, Daichi had refused to bring all four of them along with him again, so now they went in turns.

“I didn’t ‘talk’ you into anything.”

“You didn’t say no either!”

“Oikawa, you literally said yes the moment Bokuto asked,” Daichi rolled his eyes, turning to look at him. “Don’t blame me.”

“But you’re buying the gross jelly again!”

Daichi blinked, glanced down at the packet in his hands. “What -? No, I just –” he sighed, but set the packet down anyway. “Why do you keep changing the subject?”

“Because I’m _ma-_!” Before Oikawa could finish screaming in a convenience store at nearly midnight, Daichi clamped a hand around his mouth.

“The hell is wrong with you?” He huffed, jerking his hand away when Oikawa licked it.

“Nothing!” Oikawa stuck out his tongue, stomping down the aisle and pulling down a random box of – sprinkles. Yes, that was _exactly_ what he needed, sugar.

“No, there’s very clearly something. You haven’t been this bratty since the one time Kageyama came to you to ask for help–”

“Ugh, can we _not_ talk about Tobio?” He grumped, glancing between the various assortments of sprinkles. Chocolate or rainbow or strawberry – ooh, they had caramel candy! “How do you know about that anyway?”

“He told me.”

Oikawa blinked. “…he did?”

Daichi hummed, walking past him. “Yeah, told the whole team.”

“Oh.” And then. “What did he say?”

“That you gave him advice.”

“That’s it?”

Daichi nodded. “But you were really annoying about it.”

“Hah.” Oikawa scoffed, tossing the box of caramel candy back on the shelf. “ _I’m_ the annoying one?” he glared at the floor, mentally running through every single instance of Kageyama being an annoying brat. Most of them did involve Oikawa being not-very-nice too, but that was besides the point.

Kageyama following him around like a lost puppy. Annoying.

Kageyama insisting he teach him how to serve even though he already served well. Annoying.

Kageyama staying late to practice _every single day_. Really fucking annoying.

“He-” Oikawa started, looking up again but Daichi was gone, fluorescent lights reflecting even brighter against the tiles. “Huh? Daichi?!”

“What?” the voice came from all the way down the aisle, behind him. Turning, he saw Daichi tossing popcorn into a basket.

“Why you –” Oikawa muttered under his breath, stomping over, and punching his shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?” Daichi glared at him, rubbing his shoulder.

“You left me!” He whined, shoving his aching fist into his jacket pocket. For such a light punch, it hurt like hell. Maybe Daichi was wearing armor underneath.

“Oikawa, I walked _ten feet_ away from you.”

“You _ditched_ me!”

“I didn’t even leave the aisle.”

“You _abandoned_ me!” He grabbed Daichi’s arm, attempting to look as pathetic and hurt as possible. If it worked, Daichi didn’t seem affected.

“Oikawa.”

“You just threw me away like I mean nothing – _nothing –_ to you!” he sobbed dramatically.

“You need to sleep.” Daichi muttered, voice low enough that if Oikawa hadn’t been clinging onto him like he was dying, he wouldn’t have heard him.

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you very much.” Oikawa scoffed, pushing away from him. With the sudden lack of support, his legs wobbled underneath him.

“No, you aren’t.” He picked up the basket, filled with snacks and candy Oikawa didn’t remember choosing, and started down the aisle again. “Let’s go.”

“Hey, didn’t you say _I_ got to choose the snacks?” He pouted when Daichi glanced at him skeptically.

“Like caramel? Which you don’t even eat?”

“I do!”

“You don’t.”

“I swear I really do.”

“Oikawa I’ve been stuck with you for three weeks now. You hate caramel with a burning passion.” Daichi said as they turned the corner and stood in the line for check out. Despite the time, there were three people ahead of them in line – all of which were college students, one Oikawa even recognized as the guy who’d gotten the entire class homework on the first day.

Bitch.

He leaned into Daichi’s side, completely forgetting the earlier debate. That could wait until later. “Hey, Daichi, don’t look now, but see the guy second in line?” he whispered.

“Hmm?” Of course, Daichi being the oblivious dummy he was, started turning to see who Oikawa was talking about.

“No!” Oikawa hissed, grabbing his arm, and turning him away again. “I said ‘ _don’t look now_ ’!”

“How do expect me to see him if I don’t look?” Daichi deadpanned.

“Oh my _god_ , have you never heard of–” Oikawa huffed, and pulled out his phone. The screen turned on and he winced against the brightness. “Just – just look here, okay?”

“Why do you have Iwaizumi’s picture as your lock screen?”

“Uh, duh. Because he’s gorgeous?” Oikawa replied as if it were obvious. It was. There were few people who looked as good as Iwa-chan, and even then, he reigned superior. It wasn’t even a competition.

“That doesn’t…” he started and then shook his head. “Never mind. What are we looking at?”

“Nothing. We’re _pretending_ to look at something while we gossip about someone else.”

Daichi groaned, looking away from the screen and running a hand through his already very messy and not-Oikawa-approved-hair. “ _Why?_ ”

“ _Because_ Daichi. Didn’t Refreshing-kun teach you anything about gossiping?”

“No?”

Now Oikawa groaned, slapping a hand over his eyes, and catching the attention of other people as well. “He left all the hard work to _me_?!”

Daichi muttered something under his breath, too quiet for Oikawa to hear properly but it was probably questioning his mental health.

Ha.

The line moved forward, and Oikawa straightened, returning to his story. “Anyway, what was I saying?”

“The guy in line?” Daichi replied, but – thankfully – didn’t turn to look again.

“Yeah, so he’s the one I was complaining about that one time.”

“You complain about people more than anyone I have ever met, Oikawa.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you very much. And I mean the guy in my astrophysics class.”

Daichi squinted. “The one who tripped and spilled glitter all over you?”

“Wha- no! That was math! And he was a whole other problem, I mean who the fuck carries a jar of glitter around?”

“The one who slipped and made you fall?”

Oikawa groaned. “No, that was in the cafeteria.”

“The one who was running and crashed into you and made you spill hot coffee over a professor which got you in trouble and that’s why you hate that professor now?”

“Oh. My. God. _No!_ And that was a girl.”

“You have a really bad habit of tripping and spilling things, don’t you?” Daichi commented offhandedly. Oikawa punched his shoulder again.

“Shut up. Anyway, _no_ you got it wrong every single time. And I’m the poor unfortunate soul who has to deal with clumsy people all the time.”

“You tripped over your feet yesterday.” Daichi reminded.

“Shut up!” Oikawa whined, moving to punch him again but Daichi had apparently learned and ducked away in time.

“Right sorry, go on.”

“Thank you,” he said sarcastically, and the line moved forward again. The guy from his class was gone. “I mean the one from the first day.”

“How the hell am I supposed to remember every single person you’ve complained about since day one? Kuroo’s the one making a list!”

“You’re just – wait, Kuroo’s making a list? Why?”

“He thinks you’ll name the entire student body by the end of the first year or something – I don’t really know, there’s a whole betting pool going on.”

“Really?” Oikawa asked, surprised. How come no one told him? “How many people are on the list?”

Daichi sighed, “I don’t know, forty?”

“That’s it?”

“Oh yes, the count is very low isn’t it?” he mumbled sarcastically.

Oikawa hummed. How many people could he get on that list before they started to suspect him? “Were you supposed to tell me about it?”

“I don’t think so. Pretend I didn’t okay?”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll kick you out of the shopping rotation.”

“Wah! Dai-chan, so cruel!”

Daichi shrugged.

Oikawa wondered if this was how Daichi kept Karasuno in check. Probably. Those guys were monsters. Maybe he used his armor.

“Anyway, stop distracting me.”

“You’re distracting yourself.”

“Am not!”

The line moved forward, and they were _finally_ at the counter. The fluorescent lights were starting to hurt his eyes, but maybe that was because he’d only slept for two and half hours in the past three days.

Who knew?

Daichi did all the talking – not that there was much, the cashier lady looked as tired as Oikawa felt and he spent the entire time wondering if she was about to fall over.

Or maybe that was just because the world was spinning under his feet.

“This better be fun…” Oikawa mumbled as they stepped away from the counter, plastic bags heavy and wallets considerably lighter.

“Uh huh.” Daichi nodded, but he didn’t seem all that excited either. Well, at this point, all Daichi ever seemed to be excited about was coffee and sleep.

Ha. Sleep. Who the fuck slept these days?

The sliding doors opened before them and the street was so, so dark. Oikawa squeezed his eyes shut, mentally tracing the green spots in his vision. When he opened his eyes again, the spots persisted and Daichi looked concerned.

The world kept spinning.

“I’m _fine_.” Oikawa grinned, starting down the sidewalk. The plastic handles dug into his skin – heavy for a bag containing only chips and candy.

“Oikawa, we live the other way.”

“Oh.” He spun on his heel and nearly fell over, stumbling onto the street to keep himself upright. Gulping, he looked up.

Daichi did not look impressed. “Still fine?” He asked, but not really. It wasn’t a question, but Oikawa answered anyway.

“Yup! I’m _great_.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Daichi hummed, walking over to him. He took the bags from Oikawa, grabbed his wrist, and started walking – in the right direction this time. “Let’s go.”

“Hmph. Daichi, I’m a big kid.” Oikawa whined.

“I know.”

“Good.” He huffed but let himself be pulled along anyway.

\---

“We’re back!” Daichi called out as he swung the door open. Immediately, Oikawa could hear feet pounding against the floor as someone ran through the apartment. A second later, Bokuto slid into the genkan, nearly crashed into a wall, and tripped over his own feet trying to get the bags.

“Finally, snacks!” he cheered as he dug out a packet of chips and hugged it tightly to his chest. “Oh, how I’ve missed you!”

“Don’t eat it all at once.” Daichi said, taking off his shoes. Oikawa bent down to do the same, inconspicuously tilting his head towards the door and away from the bright lights down the hall.

“Yeah, like last time, Kou-chan. You didn’t even share with me!”

Bokuto shrugged nonchalantly, “I was hungry.”

Oikawa huffed, looking up at the man in mild irritation. “I shared –”

“Oi! You all coming or not?” Kuroo yelled from – probably – the living room. “We’ll start without you!”

“Yeah, yeah…” Daichi replied, walking down the hallway and leaving the snack distribution to Oikawa and Bokuto. But Bokuto couldn’t be trusted, so just Oikawa then.

“Should we bring it over there?” He asked, standing up and blinking rapidly at the way his vision swam.

Bokuto raised an eyebrow at him. “You okay?”

“…yeah.” He picked up the bags, grateful when Bokuto didn’t protest. Daichi hadn’t let him do anything other than walk on the way back, even carry the bags, which was ridiculous. They weren’t that heavy anyway.

“Do you prefer chocolate or strawberry?” The winger spiker asked, rummaging through another bag. 

“Chocolate.” Obviously. Only lame-o’s like Iwa-chan liked strawberry.

“Too bad.” Bokuto grinned and tossed a strawberry flavored sweet at him. “You get strawberry.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Can you two hurry the fuck up?” Kuroo yelled again. And then, “you know what? Never mind!”

“Ah, Kuroo started the movie.” Ushijima called out.

“You can’t even wait for us?!” Oikawa whined, dragging the bags into the living room. “I thought we were _friends_!”

“We were. Until you decided to take three hours to buy some god damn snacks.” Kuroo grumped, sliding down in his seat until he was fully enveloped in the blanket draped around him.

“But they only took fifteen minutes?” Ushijima said or asked, Oikawa didn’t really know.

“ _Somebody’s_ cranky.” He mocked, dropping the bags onto coffee table and making a face.

“Shut up.”

“Daichi~” Oikawa complained, turning the man sitting on the couch. “Kuroo’s being mean to me.”

Daichi sighed, grabbing something from the table and leaning back again. “Kuroo don’t be mean.”

“What?! He’s the one being annoying! Don’t scold me!” He whined and threw a cushion at Oikawa, who barely ducked out of the way.

“Daichi! He’s throwing stuff at me!”

“Daichi! He’s being a brat!”

“Daichi! He’s a bully!”

“Daichi! He’s whiny!”

“Dai –”

“If you two don’t shut up, nobody’s watching anything.” Daichi interrupted, voice sharp and far too similar to the demons in Iwaizumi’s horror movies. Oikawa shivered, but shut up.

“Yah, take the movie back!” Bokuto huffed, taking the seat next to Kuroo and pushing him onto Daichi, who was now stuck in the middle.

This left only two other options: one, the armchair. The couch was crammed enough with four people on it, and Oikawa sitting there wouldn’t make it any better. But the armchair wasn’t pushed against a wall, and if Bokuto got his way and they watched a horror movie, then Oikawa was far too paranoid to sit there.

Meaning the only other option, was to sit on the couch, which was already full.

Oh well. They could suffer.

He sat on the armrest and slid down, forcibly pushing Bokuto to th side – not that the spiker seemed to mind, as he was battling with Kuroo on the pros and cons of watching a Hollywood movie with dubs.

“If I’m watching a movie, I don’t want to _read_!”

“Dubs ruin the quality of the movie! It’s horrible!”

“I can’t believe you two disagree on something.” Oikawa hummed, stretching past Bokuto to grab chocolate. “This is incredible.”

“Can we please just choose a movie?” Daichi interrupted. “You can debate later.”

“But we need translations!” Kuroo argued. “And this idiot thinks _dubs_ are better!”

Bokuto scoffed. “I am _not_ an idiot – you are! Who wants to read in the middle of a movie?!”

“We could always watch a Japanese movie.” Ushijima offered.

“Like what?”

Silence, and then a shrug. “I don’t watch movies often.”

“Of course, you don’t,” Oikawa groaned and leaned onto Bokuto. Warm. Maybe he could convince Kuroo to share the blanket. But he’d have to be careful and smart about it, if Kuroo suspected he wanted something, then he’d do everything in his power to make sure Oikawa couldn’t get it.

So, with the power of every braincell he had left after being stuck with Mattsun and Makki for three years, he said, “hey, Kuroo, share the blanket, I’m cold.”

“No.”

Oh well. He tried.

It ended up taking ten minutes for them to decide which movie to watch and Oikawa had given up trying to follow the conversation when Bokuto realized Disney movies were an option. The final choice was a Japanese movie – Ushijima’s choice because he won rock-paper-scissors – that he had never heard of.

“Is it horror?” Kuroo asked, shifting around, and causing general annoyance.

The spiker hummed. “No, it’s suspense. I think.”

“You think?” Oikawa said, voice muffled, and words slurred since his face was pressed into Bokuto’s shoulder.

“Tendou watched it.”

“But you didn’t?”

“I don’t remember it well.”

“Please just start the movie.” Daichi groaned and Oikawa almost felt kinda bad for him but _Daichi_ got some of the blanket so whatever.

“Okay, okay…” Kuroo huffed then paused, “wait, where’s the remote?”

Two minutes later, after they all got off the couch because ‘ _who’s sitting on it? No, stand up._ ’ Daichi found the remote on the floor beneath the coffee table.

“How long is it?” Oikawa asked through a yawn.

Kuroo squinted at the screen. “Eh, two hours…”

“Shush, its starting!” Bokuto whispered.

“It’s just the opening credits, Bokuto.” Daichi said, and Oikawa could hear plastic crinkling.

“Oh. I don’t remember the movie starting like this.” Ushijima said slowly as the woman on the screen started screaming when she walked in on her husband’s dead body. Clearly, the perfect opening.

The movie was alright, but the commentary made it better because apparently Kuroo couldn’t keep his mouth shut during a movie either, and Oikawa _finally_ wasn’t the only one getting scolded for talking.

“I think it’s the servant.” Bokuto declared as the fourth person died on screen.

“No way, it’s the daughter,” Daichi scoffed. “She’s been near every crime scene since the murders started happening.”

Kuroo made a face, shifting enough that Bokuto – who’d been leaning on him – fell over, making Oikawa fall too. “Why would she kill her father though? They were supposed to be really close.”

“Maybe that was a cover-up. Maybe they were partners in crime and the daughter wanted something and the dad said no, so they fought, and she ended up killing him.”

“No, the cousin is far more likely to kill in this case.” Ushijima said flatly. “Also, this is not the movie I watched with Tendou.”

“You know what?” Oikawa muttered, curling into Bokuto’s side. He’d finally managed to get a corner of the blanket – not that Kuroo was putting up much of a fight – and wasn’t planning on letting go of it anytime soon. “Maybe the dad committed suicide.”

“Why would he do that?” Bokuto squinted, briefly pulling his eyes away from the screen to peer down at him. “He had everything he ever wanted, right? Big mansion, big family, lots of money, fuck ton of food, like not fair man, get me some of that–”

“Maybe he was miserable inside and knew he would always want more, no matter how much he had. Maybe he hated himself because he thought he wasn’t good enough or he didn’t deserve anything he had and felt worthless because of it. Maybe he was just a really, really bad person.”

Silence.

“Oikawa, are you okay?” Bokuto said gently.

On screen, someone was pushed down the marble staircase. Oikawa blinked. “Yeah, I’m great, why?”

“Just checking…” Bokuto hummed, hugging the setter. If there was suddenly a lot more blanket on his side than before or if Daichi let him hold the popcorn bowl despite not being in the middle – he didn’t notice.

Two more people died in the next twenty minutes, bringing the family count from the original eighteen – including indirect relatives – to eleven.

Oikawa ended up missing the Grand Reveal, falling asleep just before it. Instead of the couch, he woke up in his own bed, under a ceiling with glow-in-the-dark stars he’d stuck up weeks ago, and a packet of chocolate sweets on his nightstand.

Thank god it wasn’t strawberry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> right well made THAT mess.
> 
> i will 100% admit i have no idea what i did or why but ill pretend to be a smart author so hOoRaY  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> Next Time: The Art of Irritation and - Bokuto, No, You Can't Drink That!


End file.
